


Empress of Faith

by Amlusa



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: And not just sexually, Casual Sex, Cunnilingus, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Friends to Lovers, Multi, Not Canon Compliant, One Night Stands, Recreational Drug Use, Slow Build, Slow Burn, We like to torture Cullen, f/f - Freeform, f/m - Freeform, m/m - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-10-28
Updated: 2020-12-04
Packaged: 2021-03-08 22:01:34
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 6
Words: 31,591
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27243880
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Amlusa/pseuds/Amlusa
Summary: Avana Lavellan was always a difficult girl. A wild spirit, a rule-breaker, a shooting star. Many of Clan Lavellan wondered how she possibly earned the title of First. But when she was deployed to spy on the Conclave between the Shemlen Mages and Templars, no one could have guessed where it would lead her, least of all Avana.
Relationships: Female Inquisitor/Cullen Rutherford, Female Inquisitor/Solas (Dragon Age), Female Lavellan/Cullen Rutherford, Female Lavellan/Solas
Kudos: 9





	1. Talking with Ghosts

The morning sun cut through the impossibly large open balcony doors, illuminating the ornate sleeping chamber in a golden-green glow. Avana sat at the gilded vanity and applied her last strokes of makeup on her ivory skin, relishing in the sweet scent of crystal grace and another spicy, exotic flower wafting in on the breeze. Her handmaiden, Orielle, wove her hair into an intricate plait down her back, threading golden ribbon through the multitude of smaller braids and spirals that twisted and curved their way toward her waist. She wore a blush gown made of a floaty, transparent fabric that dipped below her sternum and at the small of her back, held to her shoulders with two ornate pieces of jewelry that draped down her shoulders to her elbows in swells of dragon bone and moonstone. Her left arm was covered in a metal gauntlet, also made of dragon bone and embellished in moonstone. 

Orielle placed a matching circlet on her head, sliding the piece into her hair with such grace and efficiency Avana didn't even notice until she felt the moonstone droplet fall between her eyes. She smiled her thanks to Orielle, who silently bowed and exited the room. With a sigh, she bent to apply her anklets, going without shoes as was her people's custom. They truly were her people now, after all. No more pretending.

She stood and walked to the balcony, her gown fluttering in the breeze. She rested her palms on the banister, turning her face up towards the gentle warmth of the sun and closing her eyes, allowing a small smile to grace her lips. Though the sound of her gauntlet should have been harsh against the marble, it made no noise. What a lovely gift from her husband, and on such an occasion as...

As...

She found she could not remember. An odd sense of fear pieced through her as she tried to recall when her husband had presented her with the gauntlet, and found she couldn't even picture his face. Her heart dropped and she backed away from the balcony, feeling a sense of wrongness that seemed out of sorts in a place as beautiful as this. It suddenly all seemed wrong, a mirage or a trick. Avana scrambled frantically back into the room, reaching for the bedside drawer with a shaking hand to pull out a collection of daggers. She unsheathed one as the taste of ash and blood filled her mouth, spun around to face her empty chambers as the gentle scent of flowers was replaced with the tang of blood and stench of mildew. She choked as her senses overwhelmed her, grasping at her throat as the beautiful golden light that had filled the room turned sickly green and putrid. Her vision narrowed as she collapsed to her knees, fighting for breath against the tightening of her throat. 

Suddenly, a voice cut through the ringing in her ears, wicked and cold:

"Kill the elf."

A crack like lightening striking, a choked scream echoing in her ears, she managed to look down through streaming eyes and saw that her gauntlet had exploded, leaving a shimmering green silhouette of her arm- or at least, where her arm should have been. From above her elbow down, there was only a shimmering green form of her left arm. It pulsed a blinding flash of sickly green, and a pain like none she'd ever felt shot through her entire body. Another scream tore it's way through her raw throat, and her vision eclipsed in green as another voice called out-

"Vhenan..."

\-----‐------

"Get up."

Avana's eyes snapped open and were immediately bombarded with putrid green and sharp black. She groaned and pulled herself up, wincing as her aching body screamed in protest. The air was humid and foul, the constant sounds of lightening cracking around her ringing in her ears. She could see mountains, floating rocks, black as night, hear screams...

"You're in the fade."

She jumped, hand reaching to grasp for her staff as she spun around towards the sound of the voice. A qunari woman stood before her, examining the long nails on one hand, holding her staff in the other. Her left arm was translucent and green from the elbow down. 

"Who are you?" Avana snapped, pulling a dagger from her thigh holster. "Tell me, before I destroy you where you stand." 

The Qunari finally looked at her, quirking one brow, corner of her mouth pulling up in a half smile. 

"Ooh, I like the ones with spark. This will be fun." She tossed Avana her staff, then planted her hands on her hips, tossing back a lock of white hair. "Technically kid, I'm you. Or at least I am in another world." At Avana's blank stare, she rolled her eyes and sighed. "It's complicated. I should have let Adele handle this, she's better at the insufferably vague stuff. Basically, there's a shit ton of us that have lived your life before, failed miserably, and now are in charge of making sure you get through this." She pointed two fingers at Avana, who was desperately trying to process exactly what was happening here. 

"I'm... I'm in the fade?"

"Dreaming, but yes, you're dreaming of the raw fade." 

"And you are...?"

"Ashaa Adaar. The Silver Dragon, so I'm called. Or I was. I'm sure they have less savory names for me now." The Qunari picked something out of her teeth with a long nail, studied it, then flicked it to the side. "Anyways, we don't have long. He's coming, and he doesn't need to know about me. Or the others. It could really screw things up. All I came to tell you was to play along with Cassandra and Leliana. They're the best chance you, and the rest of the world, have for surviving. You got that?" 

Avana's mouth was hanging open in a way that would be comical in a completely different situation, but right now was causing Ashaa to fix her with an increasingly insular stare. She clamped her mouth shut and nodded, trying to process what the qunari had told her. 

"Alright kid. Time to wake up." 

\-------  
Another crack of green light and a shock of pain through her left arm woke Avana to a cold stone floor. The room smelled of blood and mildew, a cacophony of voices echoing from somewhere nearby. She felt two pairs of arms hauling her up into a kneeling position. She slumped forward onto shackled hands, her aching body screaming in protest. 

"Sit up, knife-ear." A voiced growled to her left, a harsh ferelden accent cutting into her throbbing temples. "Seeker wants a word."

A loud bang echoed through the chamber, and Avana blinked rapidly to clear her vision as a dark shape approached her. A woman, beautiful face twisted into a scowl, hand on the pommel of her sword. Behind her, another woman, her features mostly hidden in shadow and hood, slinked off to her left and perched against the wall. 

"Tell me why we shouldn't kill you now." The first woman snarled in a thick Navarran accent. "The conclave is destroyed, everyone who attended is dead." She circled around Avana as she spoke, coming to a stop in front of her.

"Except for you."

Avana set her mouth in a firm line. She'd worked with many shemlen over the years; most were the same. When they decided your guilt, that was that. Especially towards non-humans.

"Explain. this." The woman snarled, her voice becoming even more acidic. She jerked Avana's left hand up, then threw it back down.

"I can't." Avana snapped.

"What do you mean you can't?" 

"I don't know what that is, or how it got there." She fought to keep her voice steady and neutral, the uncertainty of the situation beginning to take hold. 

"You're lying!" The woman snatched her by the collar, hauling Avana up towards her like she weighed little more than a mabari pup. The second woman finally interceded.

"We need her, Cassandra." The woman looked back at her, torchlight illuminating her delicate features beneath her hood. There was a sharpness to her eyes that warned against trying her. 

"So what now?" Avana said, maintaining her stoic posturing.

"Do you remember what happened?" The hooded woman asked in a crisp orlesian accent. "How this all began?"

"Tell me, love, will you let me finish or will you try to kill me first?" 

The hooded woman chuckled. "Though we mourn our most Holy Divine, it would hardly please her for us to kill you before you've had your chance to speak." She turned to address the first woman, who had a glower to rival an angry varghest. "AND a fair trial." 

Avana sighed, the pounding in her temples increasing by the minute. Many humans had the capacity for betrayal; even more were loyal to a fault. She remembered Ashaa's words to her in the fade.

"Are you Leliana?" The hooded woman froze. She fixed Avana with a piercing stare. They sat locked in a silent battle of wills for several long moments, before Leliana let forth a nearly imperceptible nod.

"I remember... running. Things chasing me, and... a woman."

"A woman?" Incredulity lit the hooded woman's voice.

"She reached out to me, but then..." She trailed off, digging through her memory, trying to recall what happened. She grasped at the tendrils of the memory, but found empty space where it should be. The first woman, Cassandra, took Leliana by the arm. 

"Go to the forward camp, Leliana. I will bring her to the breach." 

Leliana exited with a nod, and Cassandra turned back to Avana. She bent down and began unlocking her shackles, replacing them with a rope. 

"What did happen?"

"It is best if I show you." Cassandra's voiced was still vindictive, but considerably less poisonous. She guided her by the elbow up the stairs, into the chantry building, and out into the awaiting horror.

The sky was torn asunder, bolts of putrid green shooting down from it like sickly meteors. Rolling black clouds circled a shattered green eye.

"It grows with every passing moment, spewing rifts and demons." Cassandra said, leading her down a path towards the mountain. "Unless we act, the breach may grow until it swallows the world."

At that, the breach exploded to life, as did the mark on Avana's hand. She dropped to her knees with a shriek of pain, her hand lifted towards the breach as if pulled toward it. The mark- and the pain- slowly faded until it was just a flicker on her palm. Cassandra helped her up.

"Each time the breach expands, your mark spreads, and it is killing you." Cassandra helped her up. "We believe it is the key to stopping this, but we don't have much time."

Avana took a deep breath to steady herself. "Fenedhis. I understand."

"Then?"

"I'll do what I can." She turned her head up to the breach. "Whatever it takes." 

Cassandra paused for a moment, dark eyes searching her face. Then she pulled out a knife and cut Avana's bindings. 

"Come." She said, turning back to the breach. "There is no time to waste."

\-----

Half an hour later, not to mention a few demons, the two women made it to a fade rift. It was blocked by what looked like a large spiked stone, pulsating the same sickly green as the breach, it's form constantly shifting. A small group of soldiers, including a Dwarven man and a tall elf, were battling a handful of demons. Cassandra and Avana jumped in to help dispatch them. When the last one fell, the rift exploded, turning into a white ball of pure energy. 

"Quickly, before more come through!" The elven man had appeared at her side, and with a strength belied by his appearance, grabbed her wrist and pointed her palm towards the rift. A blast of energy shot through it, and with a sharp crack the rift closed. The man released her wrist.

"What did you do?" Avana asked him, rubbing her left hand.

"I did nothing." The elf smiled gently at her. "The credit is yours."

"I closed that thing? How?" She looked at him, giving him quick study. He was very tall, compared to most elves, with an impossibly straight spine, porcelain skin, grey-blue eyes, and a shaved head. Something about him reminded her of drawings of elven statues in her books back at the Clan's campsite. 

"Whatever magic created the breach left that mark on your hand. I theorized the mark might be able to close the rifts that have opened in the breach's wake-" his lip curled into a more self-satisfied smile. "And it seems I was correct."

"Meaning it could also close the breach itself." Cassandra appeared at her side, wiping demon gore from her sword.

"Possibly." The elf turned back to Avana. "It seems you hold the key to our salvation."

"Good to know!" A broad, red-headed Dwarven man fixed an arrow into a wicked looking crossbow. "And here I'd thought we'd be ass deep in demons forever." The dwarf approached her, strapping the crossbow to his back.

"Varric Thethras. Rogue, storyteller, and occasionally, unwelcome tagalong." He shot a wink in Cassandra's direction. She heard a disgusted snort from behind her.

"That's a lovely crossbow."

"Ahhhh, isn't she?" Varric turned to gaze lovingly at the weapon. "Bianca and I have been through alot together."

"You named your crossbow Bianca?"

"Of course. And she'll be great company in the valley."

"Absolutely not!" Cassandra stampede in between the two. "Your help is appreciated, Varric, but-"

"Have you been in the valley lately, seeker? Your soldiers are not in control anymore. You need me." 

Cassandra relented with a disgusted noise, retreating back to speak with some of the soldiers. Avana fiddled with her remaining glove as the elf turned towards her.

"My name is Solas, if there are to be introductions." The elf inclined his head to her with what seemed to be his trademark polite smile. "I am pleased to see you still live."

"He means 'I kept that mark from killing you while you slept.'" Varric piped up from where he was digging through a supply crate.

Avana turned back to Solas. Even at the respectably distance between them she had tilt her head to look up at him. "You seem to know a great deal."

"Like you, Solas is an apostate." Cassandra interjected. 

Something gleamed in Solas' eyes. "Technically, all mages are now apostates, Cassandra. My travels have allowed me to learn much of the Fade, far beyond that of any circle mage. I came to offer whatever help I can give in closing the breach. If it is not closed, we are all doomed regardless of origin."

Avana appraised this strange elf once more. He bore no vallaslin, did not seem to belong to an alienage, but freely traveled without being intercepted by Templars. He appeared to be young, perhaps late twenties, but his eyes held a look of a man old beyond his years. 

"And what will you do once this is over? Disappear into the night?" They turned and walked side by side toward the gate to the forward camp.

Solas smirked. "One hopes those in power will remember those who helped, and those who did not." At the sight of her quirked brow, he chuckled and bent down to whisper out of earshot of Cassandra: "Though perhaps a contingency plan is necessary." 

Avana chuckled. "Perhaps for both of us, if we make it out of here alive." The mark flared at that moment, and she gasped, stumbling away from him. She collapsed to her knees, pushing down against the fear rising in her chest, black ringing her vision. She was dying. A contingency plan would not be necessary for her.

A strong hand gripped her left forearm, and the pain receded, her vision clearing. She looked up into Solas' face, narrowed in concentration.

"There, that should get you through for a little while." He stood and offered her a hand. She took it and stood gingerly, pressing a thumb into her left palm. She nodded her thanks to him, and he smiled down at her. This smile seemed more genuine. It sent shivers down her spine. She felt eyes on her and turned to see Varric watching them, a knowing look in his dark eyes. She shook her head and stalked forward, determination intruding on the brief moment of reprieve. Of hope.

"You should know, Cassandra," Solas called to the Seeker as they stalked down into the valley. "The magic here is unlike any I have ever seen. Your prisoner is a mage, but I find it difficult to imagine any mage weilding such power."

"Understood." Cassandra said gruffly. "We must get to the forward camp quickly." 

"Well," Varric said, shooting Avana a sardonic smile. "Bianca's excited."

They fought their way toward the forward camp, cutting through swaths of demons. One battle turned foul when a shade pinned Cassandra against a cliff face, knocking her sword from her hand, her shield the only thing keeping the monster's talons and teeth at bay. Avana slid across the ice, pooling her mana in her gut, pulling on the fear and rage she had accumulated throughout the day, letting it fly forward with a blood-curdling scream.

Fire shot from her mouth in a roaring blast, melting the shade to a puddle of bubbling goo where it stood. Fissures in the ice formed around Cassandra as she shielded herself from the inferno. Avana quelled the stream and picked her way forward to where Cassandra stood. She picked up Cassandra's sword and pulled on the woman's arm. Once they were safely across the ice to the other bank, Solas took over to check Cassandra for wounds.

A low whistle came from her right. She looked down to see Varric gazing at the place Cassandra had been trapped. 

"It seems you're a skilled mage." Solas said, not looking away from Cassandra. 

"I try, darling." Avana smirked and sauntered past them, up the hill Cassandra had marked as the entrance to the forward camp. They all shuffled behind her. Her hand ached more with each passing minute, and if she was to die soon, she may as well go out with a bang.

"Thank you." Cassandra took her by surprise. She turned to look at the taller woman, who had come to walk next to her, staring forward at their destination. She nodded to her and they pushed forward.

They met Leliana at the forward camp, along with an insufferable worm of a man, Chancellor Roderick. He barked orders as though he had any right, grasping for power in the tumultuous vacuum left by the death of the divine. 

Stupid human, she thought. You are part of the problem.

They chose to take the mountain path, rescuing a group of scouts and closing another fade rift. As they jogged down the path to what remained of the Temple of Sacred Ashes, a horrendous smell assaulted them, sulfur and burned meat, charred hair. Avana's stomach turned as they came across the first of dozens of charred corpses, frozen in pictures of agony and terror, petrified mouths opened wide in screams of pain. Ash crunched underfoot like fresh snow. Shards of some kind of black metal climbed the walls, like petrified energy from the blast. They came to a small corridor, and when they rounded the corner, a flash of green light greeted them with a loud CRACK.

The rift was enormous, standing at least thirty feet off the ground. A stream of green protruded from the top, connecting to the breach above. Avana's mouth dropped open, her stomach rolling in apprehension. 

"Fenedhis." She cursed softly. She saw Solas nod in agreement next to her.

"You're here!" Leliana's soft voice approached from behind her, nearly lost in the cacophony of hell before them. Cassandra turned to Avana.

"Are you ready?"

"I think so, but I don't know how I'm even going to reach that thing, much less close it."

"No." Solas said from her other side, gazing up at the rift. "This rift was the first. Closing it could close the breach. We must try."

Avana turned to him, a snarky reply primed on her lips, but Varric beat her to it.

"I don't think not trying was something that crossed her mind, Chuckles." 

Solas grimaced and turned away, gesturing the party down the hill. As they progressed down the path, a low, cruel voice echoed around them

"Now is the hour of our victory."

"What is this?" Cassandra said, panic in her sharp tone. "What are we hearing."

"The person who created the breach, perhaps?" Solas intoned. He seemed completely unperturbed by the voice. 

"Seeker, you know this is red lyrium." Varric said from next to Avana, concern lacing his voice. 

"I see it, Varric."

"But what's it doing here?"

"Perhaps the magic of the breach called to lyrium beneath the temple, corrupting it." Again, Solas seemed completely unperturbed. Avana felt a flicker of suspicion in the back of her mind. From what little she knew of him, however, his lack of concern could be due to an academic curiosity. She attributed her suspicion to her distrust of others in general, and pushed it down.

They reached the bottom of the cavern and a vision bloomed before them. Divine Justinia secured by magical barriers. Before her, a misshapen creature of fog, red eyes glowing like embers, ordering someone to "Keep the sacrifice still." Then in burst Avana herself, staff drawn and ready, her face a mask of horror and rage. 

"Kill the elf." The cruel voice said, pointing at her shadow form. Avana's stomach flipped, remembering the phrase from her dream.

"Run while you can, warn them!" Justinia cried to her. The vision faded with a crack and a burst of fog.

"You were there!" Cassandra stalked towards her and Avana spun to meet her. "Is this vision true? The Divine, is she...?"

"Cassandra, I don't remember!" The woman's face was a mask of rage, and she hovered her hand over her hidden blade before remembering it had been confiscated while she was sleeping.

"Echoes of this place and what happened here." Solas stepped between the two women, angling towards Cassandra, pushing Avana behind him. "Seeker, your prisoner has been through an extensive mental and physical attack. It is a miracle she has retained her self, let alone any memories from before." Solas's hand held her in place behind him, nearly pressed against his back. For a moment Avana was enraged; had she not more than proven herself capable of protecting herself? 

Then it occurred to her that perhaps his coddling wasn't that at all. He was protecting Cassandra as much as her.

Cassandra had not come to the same conclusion.

"Birds of a feather do indeed flock together." Cassandra snarled at Solas, brandishing her sword. Now Solas clutched her to him. "I should have had you tried as an apostate when I had the chance." 

Cassandra brought her sword down, Leliana's scream of "NO!" doing far too little, far too late. Solas' barrier sprung up between them, and Cassandra's sword shattered upon impact with the barrier, and she was thrown clear across the crater, landing in a heap against the back wall. Avana spun in Solas' grasp and threw her left hand out to the rift, opening it with a screech of power. 

"What are you doing?" Solas yelled, hand fisting in the stomach of her armor. "If you open that it will attract attention from the other side!"

"And keep them off us!" She replied, ripping the rift open with one fluid movement. True to his word, a pride demon manifested, roar sending vibrations across the pit. Solas spun around and threw up another barrier around them as the pride demon brought down barbed ropes of lightening on top of them, clutching her to his chest. A hail of arrows sailed down onto the pride demon, and it turned to face the inquisition archers. 

She ducked out from Solas' arm and shot forward, casting a barrier over Varric as the demon brought it's mighty fists down next to him, rattling the earth around them. From the corner of her eye she saw a purple hooded figure jogging towards her, hands held up in surrender.

"Please understand, Avana, we're on the same side!" Leliana called as the mage turned on her, brandishing her staff. "I do not agree with Cassandra's actions and we will discuss how to proceed once this was done with." The demon roared and turned it's eyes on them, finding a new target. Avana shot Leliana a curt nod and thrust her hand to the rift, disrupting it. 

The demon fell to one knee with a resounded thud. Their attacks renewed with earnest, Avana sending waves upon waves of fire, Leliana, Varric, and the archers blinding it with arrows, and Solas laying down barrier after barrier. One of Leliana's agents had moved Cassandra's limp form to the cliffs above, away from the fighting, and was tending to her.

A few batches of shades erupted from the rift, their claws and stinking maws presenting an additional challenge. Avana fade stepped through each of them in turn, disintegrating them with fire and piercing their rotting bodies with shards of ice. Whenever she caught a breath she made sure to disrupt the rift, rendering the demons immobile and defenseless. 

The thrill of the fight sung in her veins, each slash of her bladed staff brought an elation like nothing else could. She channeled every last bit of her energy she could into the fight before her, determined to make what was left of her life matter before the cursed mark sent her to the beyond to meet her creators. 

Finally, the rage demon fell, the ground shuddering with the impact. Solas strode up to her and gave her a healing potion, which she downed gratefully before turning to the twisting mass of putrid green energy before them. 

"Now, Avana!"

She cast her hand to the rift, and a high pitched whine rent the air around them. Pain like no other exploded in her left arm and creeped slowly up her arm. A roar of pain and determination left her lips as the exertion rent every piece of her body to stone, frozen in the stance that would likely be her last. As the burning pain engulfed her, she saw her brothers and sisters, their last goodbye to her, encompassing her in a giant hug that could never be long enough. She saw her parents, just behind them, beckoning her with open arms, her mother's blue eyes sparkling with tears. Despite the pain, she felt a certain calm wash over her, an acceptance of what was to come.

As she poured her energy into her mark, she felt her life force receding. She was dying.

A resounding crack exploded through the valley, a telltale sign of the rift closing. Avana's vision eclipsed in green that brightened to a blinding white, then she was falling, fading, receding from this world. She felt a pair of arms catch her, spells and words whispered near her, then all faded to black, and she was left to a slumber as deep and endless as the night sky.

\-----

Soft wind tickled her face, the sweet scent of summer grass and honeysuckle rousing her from her slumber. She opened her eyes to see tree branches stretching overhead, a sky fading in late afternoon, dusty blues and gold and purple. She sat up, gingerly, and found herself dressed in a simple white gown with long, transparent silk sleeves. Her blond curls were loose and wild, falling to her waist in tight ringlets. She heard trickling water somewhere. Lightening bugs danced around her, softly glowing in the fading light. 

"Hello, Avana." She turned to see a smiling human woman sitting at the edge of a pool of crystal clear water, soaking her feet. She was young, not thirty years old, with thick black hair falling loose down her back. She was dressed similarly, in a long white gown made of gauzy material. Her eyes were the color of silverite, glittering in the fading daylight. She beckoned to Avana. "Join me."

Avana stood and padded over to the woman, bare feet whispering across the grass. As she neared she saw her left arm, like Ashaa's, was a glittering, ethereal green from the elbow down. The woman smiled at her as she pulled up the hem of her gown and stepped into the pool, reveling in the warmth of the water. She sat down next to the woman, finding she had a calming, almost motherly aura to her.

"You've done a wonderful job, dear." She took Avana's hands in her own, rubbing soft circles across the backs. Her green hand felt as warm and solid as a normal hand.

"Am I dead?" Avana's voice came out a vulnerable whisper. 

"No, love, you're not." The woman's silver eyes cast down on their joined hands. "Just dreaming. There is still much for you to do."

"Where are we?" 

"We are on the grounds of my final home." The woman said, her smile turning slightly sad. "This was always my favorite place to rest. In the final weeks of my life, my husband would carry me down here and let me soak in the pool for hours on end." 

"Who are you?" Avana asked. The woman met her eyes again.

"Forgive me. My name is Adele. I stood where you now stand, in a different life." 

"Ashaa said there were others." Mirth lines crinkled at the corners of Adele's eyes, and she let out a laugh that sounded like a tinkling bell. 

"Ah, yes, Ashaa. She's a difficult woman. But then again, one cannot do what we have done without being somewhat difficult."

"Are you spirits?" Avana asked. "Demons? Figments of my imagination?"

Adele thought for a moment, gazing off down the pool. "I suppose we would be closest to spirits. The truth is a bit more complicated than that, and I'm afraid we don't have much time." She placed a warm hand to Avana's cheek, and Avana felt herself lean into it. "What lies ahead will be difficult to bear, dear. But you are strong. Trust in your friends, they will guide you through." 

Avana nodded, and Adele guided her down to lay on her back, closing her eyes. Warm, gentle fingers traced patterns on her forehead, and a sweet melody echoed through the clearing as the scents and sounds of the trickling pool floated away, back into the velvety black of unconsciousness.


	2. Lotus and Root

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Avana finally gets a taste of freedom, and with it comes more than she bargained for.

One month later found Avana sitting high as she dared in a tree outside Haven's gates, gazing out over the crystalline lake to the mountains outside the settlement, a roll of blood lotus and elfroot smoking between her fingers. It was well past noon, the sun just above sinking into the mountain range, casting the small settlement in a golden glow. It was almost beautiful here. 

But like most beautiful things, it's charm concealed the ugliness beneath. 

Avana had been in meetings all morning, listening to Leliana and Josephine warp her into their puppet while the Commander stood idly by, pitching brute force and military gain every chance he could. The man had a calm, stoic exterior, but something about him irritated Avana to her core. No one was that good.

Her time in Haven as the fabled Herald of Andraste had made her more and more irritable by the day. The way the Andrastians looked at her, either with shining reverence or deep seated hatred, made her skin crawl. Cassandra, in a poor attempt to reconcile with her after the events of the temple, had asked her if she had room amongst her gods for one more. It took every fiber of her self control to only light her training dummy on fire and not her coattails. 

Since then, she had taken every opportunity available to her to escape Haven, from hunting down resources for the quartermaster's requisitions to aiding in the infirmary in disguise. Leliana had soon caught on to her, and after a particularly rousing conversation in the middle of the infirmary resulting in stern looks from the physician, she was forced to abandon that pastime. 

Avana pulled on her joint, watching the ravens fly back and forth from the Chantry attic. The herbal blend wasn't enough to intoxicate her, just enough to calm her nerves.

And damn, if she didn't need it. 

"Blessed Maker, where did she go now?" Avana nearly choked on her smoke as Cassandra stormed down the path near her tree. Solas followed her at a more leisurely pace, using his staff as a walking stick, mouth set in annoyance. Avana's foot scraped imperceptibly on the branch as she slid slowly to the balls of her feet, prepared to flee. Cassandra didn't notice, but Solas' elven hearing was impeccable, and he stopped dead. His head turned towards her slowly, blue eyes meeting hers. She pressed a finger to her lips, unable to suppress the wicked grin that spread across her face. His eyes flicked from her to the joint in her hand and back, and the corner of his mouth quirked up into a smirk. He inclined his head to her and continued up the path after Cassandra. 

Avana slumped against her branch, sighing in relief, and let her foot dangle down towards the ground. It felt like the only true friend she had around here was the mystery apostate elf. Varric was lovely, in his own way, but he had a way of peering into her soul that she didn't quite appreciate. 

"Mistress Lavellan." She froze, the joint between her lips. Commander Rutherford stood at the base of her tree, glaring up at her with his lips pressed together in a flat line, arms crossed. 

So much for superior elven hearing.

"Hello, mother dearest." Avana called down to him, releasing the smoke through her nostrils. The left half of his face twitched in irritation. "Come to drag me back to my room for being naughty?"

"Someone ought to." He shot back. "You were due in war council an hour ago." 

"Is it past already?" She feigned pulling put a pocket watch. "These old eyes of mine, must have lost track of the time." 

"I'm sure that has absolutely nothing to do with whatever ditchweed you're inhaling."

"Oh please," she took a long draw on her joint, puffing for added effect. "This wouldn't get a halla high, let alone little old me."

Rutherford sighed, "I'm not above climbing that tree to bring you down myself."

"Oooh, such threats, Commander." She wagged her eyebrows at him. He dipped his head, planting his hands on his hips, then gazed up at her with the expression of a long suffering caretaker. 

"You promised you would help us." He said. Ah, the guilt trip. He really was a mother hen, feathers and all. 

"Indeed, I did." Avana put out her joint and slid down the tree, tucking the bundle of herbs into her belt pouch. "What I did not sign up for was to be humiliated and demeaned by an ambitious bunch of shemlen, toting me around as a figurehead for the religion that destroyed my people's way of life."

Rutherford's amber eyes met hers, and she saw something flicker there: regret? It was gone as quick as it came.

"You know I do not agree with what Leliana and Josephine are allowing to happen."

"Yet you are oddly silent on the matter in the war room." Avana cocked her head to the side as she slowly stalked towards him. "However you pretend otherwise, Commander, you're as self serving as the rest of them." 

"You know nothing about me." He snapped, eyes turning from amber to black. They stared each other down, tension building in the feet between them. The silence stretched for minutes, neither one willing to back down. 

"Commander." Rutherford turned as Solas manifested behind him. "I believe Mistress Lavellan has had enough machinations thrust upon her for one day."

For a lifetime, perhaps.

"I came only to deliver a message." He ran a hand over the back of his head. "We have received word from scouts in the Hinterlands. A chantry mother by the name of Mother Giselle has requested to speak with you. She believes she can help fix tensions with the Chantry."

Evana and Solas gave simultaneous scoffs. 

"I agree." The Commander held up his hands. "But Josephine believes it will at least lessen their attacks against us. We would like to send you to the Hinterlands to speak with her, and to begin the work of closing the rifts and restoring peace to Thedas."

Avana's head snapped up to him. He was giving her a smoldering glance from the side of his eye. "I'll have the debriefing delivered to your quarters. You and your companions leave tomorrow." With a final nod to Solas, the Commander turned on his heel and swept back up the path. 

Avana's heart pounded in her chest. They were going out into the field, finally, after a month of being contained here at Haven. She would be on the road again, traveling, camping, living by the land, communing with nature, away (mostly) from prying Inquisition eyes. She had a job to do, one that didn't consist of being thrown into nightmare social situations and arguments every few hours. She grinned at Solas.

"Would you walk me back to my cabin, darling?" Avana looped her arm through Solas's. "I have lots of preparation to do for our journey tomorrow."

"Of course, Mistress Lavellan." He inclined his head to her, placing her hand on his forearm and leading them up the path to the settlement. 

"There's no need for the formality, Solas." Avana said quietly, voice sobering. "I only requested they call me that instead of 'Herald' or 'your worship'. You've saved my life twice now. I am forever in your debt."

"Forgive me." He said, casting her an odd glance. "It is simply a matter of expressing my respect." 

"You showed utmost respect when you apologized to me for brashly judging the Dalish, Hah'ren."

"I'm afraid I still tend to 'brashly' judge the Dalish, Da'len. But I am trying to keep an open mind."

"That is all I can ask, Solas." They continued to walk slowly up the path, Avana relishing in the last vestiges of warmth from the fading sun.

"What would you have me call you, Mistress Lavellan?" His gentle voice soothed at her frayed nerves. 

"Whatever you see fit, Hah'ren."

"You deemed my choice too formal, I would hardly risk your displeasure again." His tone was teasing. 

"Fair." She laughed. "I do appreciate da'len. At least it doesn't bestow reverence upon the undeserving." 

"You believe you are undeserving?" They exited the forest, strolling slowly by the training recruits as they cleaned up after daily exercises. The Commander was outside his tent, head bent in conference with Captain Rylen. Cassandra was sharpening her sword on the ground near the training dummies. She gave them a curt nod before returning to her task.

"More than you can imagine." Avana murmered to herself. 

She was an impatient woman, headstrong, infuriating. Keeper Deshanna had always criticized her sharp tongue and acerbic wit, bemoaning the day she died and left the fate of the clan to her. Avana had told her if that was the way she felt she should find another first. It was all in half jest; Deshanna appreciated her wit more than most.

She trusted very few people. Outside of her immediate family, people were bitter and vengeful, humans and elves alike. If you let them in, people took and took until you had no more to give, wringing you out like a wet rag and tossing you aside when they were through wiping you through the dirt. Any secrets you shared would be used against you. No, better to keep everyone away with sharp barbs and viscious actions.

Solas she would allow. In the absence of her brothers and sisters, she was more lonely than ever. As much as she hated to admit it, he was a comfort. A comfort she would keep at arm's length, but a comfort nonetheless.

"Avana is also acceptable." She said as they approached her cabin. She saw his head turn to her and untangled their arms, turning to face him. He had a pleasant scent to him, she noticed, like fresh earth and elfroot, and the telltale citrus zing of ambient magic. 

"Avana." He inclined his head to her. She felt a thrill hearing her name on his lips and stamped in down. "I'm afraid I must begin preparing for our journey."

"As will I." She inclined her to head to him and he cast her one last smile. She turned to her door and slid through, not seeing how his smile turned suddenly into a scowl, a quiet curse of "fenedhis" leading his stride back to his quarters.

\------

At early dawn, Avana finished dressing and turned to the mirror with a sigh. Her white-blonde curls were an explosive mess around her head, falling into her eyes and framing her pale cheeks. Her green eyes poked out from the mess, glinting like chips of emerald in the candlelight. 

She grabbed a leather strap from the top of her dresser, sweeping the section of hair covering the very top of her head into a twisting bun. She began braiding each side of her head into two rows of tight braids, considering the mission ahead as she worked.

The dossier had been straightforward: speak with Mother Giselle,, close the rifts, find and recruit the horsemaster, and stabilize the area. Simple.

No problem at all.

She braided in beads inscribed with protection sigils, sent to her in Deshanna's last letter. She had been most understanding of Avana's need to remain, though Avana assumed much of the clan had written her off as a traitor. Her letter and the beads had been accompanied by a letter from her siblings, Anala's winding script punctuated with doodles of halla and hearts undoubtedly drawn by eight year old Alea had warned her against trying to return. There was much dissent amongst the clan at Deshanna's announcement that they would not be disowning her. Her siblings had been threatened daily, Anoren's position as lead hunter usurped, Arell's library trashed. Anoren had stopped an attempt to light the keeper's aravel on fire.

Avana knew what she had to do. She knew she had to bring them here. It was their best chance for safety. She hoped they would realize that too. 

Satisfied at the state of her hair, she moved to her desk and grabbed a blank sheet of parchment and a quill, penning a quick reply.

My greatest treasures,

I miss you so. You have been at the forefront of my mind during this awful month. The shemlen here have treated me well enough, though only to use for their own devices, as you may have well guessed. I'm so sorry that their machinations have affected even you, as far away as you are. 

Please, come join me. I will send people forward to ease your journey. You have every right to turn them away, should you wish. But for the sake of yourselves, and especially Alea, please accept their help. They are in my debt, and it would hardly benefit them to harm you. 

Please, my loves, it would not do for us to be apart a minute longer.

I eagerly await your presence.

Dareth Shiral,

Avana.

Avana sealed the letter with a wax stamp and tucked it into her belt. Throwing her armored coat on, she grabbed her bag and hoisted it over her shoulder, strapped her staff to her back, and stepped out into the dawn, closing her cabin door behind her. 

Four ferelden nags were awaiting her at the stables, along with her advisors, Solas, and Cassandra. They all nodded to her as she approached. Hooking her bag to the nearest horse, she turned to Leliana and jerked her head to the shore of the frozen lake. They walked along, silence stretching between them like frozen rubber. 

"I'll not pretend you don't already know," Avana began, gazing out across the crystalline lake. "But my clan has taken news of my being named the Herald of Andraste quite poorly." 

"I've had agents monitoring the situation." Leliana said, watching her with eyes like shards of glass, piercing and discerning. 

"I need my siblings brought here." Avana pulled the letter from her belt. "If you have any elven agents in the area, send them in. Send this ahead with them. They will not believe peaceful motives otherwise." 

"I understand, Mistress Lavellan." Leliana took the letter from her and whistled. A raven dropped to her shoulder, beady black eyes fixed on it's mistress. Leliana pulled out a scrap of paper and her quill, jotting down a quick note, then rolling it and the letter up and placing it in the cylinder attached to the bird's leg. She fed it a morsel of something, whispered a message in it's ear, then lifted it to the sky. The bird took flight, and they watched it until it was reduced to a speck of black on the horizon, fading in with the last vestiges of night. Leliana turned to leave.

"Spymaster." Avana turned to Leliana, who had stopped dead in her tracks, looking back at her over her shoulder. "If any harm comes to them from inquisition forces, whether intentional or neglectful, you have my promise I will burn Haven's Chantry to the ground and laugh while the ash coats my tongue." 

"Undoubtedly, Mistress Lavellan." Leliana smirked and glided back to the group gathered by the stables. Avana turned to gaze out across the lake for a few more moments, then moved to join them, boots crunching in the fresh snow that had gathered overnight. She came to stand next to Solas, who greeted her with a polite smile and a nod of his head, awaiting their final companion.

Varric joined them a few minutes later, grumbling something about Dwarven ale and Andraste's tits. Cassandra let out a noise of disgust and mounted her horse, Solas and Avana following her. As Avana fitted her boot into the stirrup, a gloved hand reached out towards her, landing on the small of her back. She glared up at the Commander, his mouth pressed into a hard line, and mounted her steed, his hand steadying her as she rose. She cast one last disdainful look at him and kicked her horse into motion, riding off towards the gates of Haven, her companions trotting along behind her. The guards at the gate saluted her as they passed, opening the doors to the wilderness beyond.

The second they passed the gates, Avana's shoulders freed, relaxing from the weight of her duties for the first time since she'd crawled out of the fade a month ago. She urged her steed into a gallop as the sun rose from behind the mountain, bathing the valley in a golden glow. The feeling of freedom as the wind whipped past her face was indescribable, her horse moving beneath her, carrying her away from the burdens that had piled on her in the last month. She let out a whoop of elation, throwing her arms in the air, holding herself steady with her legs. She heard Cassandra's call of caution and ignored it, reveling in the feel of the frozen wind whipping through her hair. 

They stopped for lunch near the gate to the Hinterlands at Varric's request. The Dwarf was nursing a wicked hangover, apparently receiving the news of their departure after starting a drinking contest with a few of Rutherford's troops.

"I won." He said with a self satisfied smirk as they rode along. "Young bucks had never met a Dwarf. Didn't know we could handle our alcohol better than humans."

"Why didn't you stop when they told you you were leaving this morning?" Cassandra asked.

"What can I say, seeker?" Varric gratefully took a potion from Solas and downed it, grimacing. "My mother didn't raise a quitter." He let out a giant belch. Cassandra let out a disgusted noise.

Now, Avana shrugged off her coat and stretched her stiff back. The Hinterlands were warmer than Haven, though not by much, and the Kingsway cold had turned the landscape brilliant shades of orange, red, and yellow. A stream spluttered by, glittering in the noon sunlight. Avana brought some of the water to her face to wipe away the grime of the road. 

"You know that's probably full of animal piss, right?" Varric called.

"Good for my complexion." Avana said, lying back in the grass to soak up the sun. "Keeps me young."

"You know what else is good for that, right?" She could picture the shit eating grin on Varric's face.

"I liked you better when you were puking your guts out over the side of your horse."

"Finally, something we agree on." Cassandra said.

Varric and Cassandra squabbled while Avana lounged in the sun. She felt quiet footsteps approach her, and opened her eyes to see Solas sit down next to her, legs crossed. He handed her a piece of bread and a hunk of cheese, which she took gratefully and sat up, knee just barely touching his. They ate together in companionable silence for a time. Avana found her eyes lingering on his long, slender fingers as he brought a piece of bread to his plush lips.

"I would like to know more about you, Solas." She said.

"Why?" His answer was quick and guarded, one ginger eyebrow arching.

Avana reeled back. "You're an apostate, yet you risked your freedom, and your life, to help the inquisition."

He picked at his bread. "Not the wisest course of action when framed that way."

"I appreciate the work you're doing, Solas." She placed a hand on his knee. "I just wanted to know more about you."

He sighed, passing a hand over his face. "I am sorry. With so much fear in the air..." he glanced up at Cassandra, who was pacing by the horses, swinging her sword at mounds of dirt. "What would you know of me?"

"What made you start studying the fade?" Avana pulled her hand back, cradling it in her lap.

"I grew up in a little village to the north. There was very little to interest a young man, especially one gifted with magic. But as I slept, spirits of the Fade showed me glimpses of wonders I had never imagined." He leaned back on his hands, gazing out over the stream to the mountains beyond, lost in memory. "I treasured my dreams. Being awake, out of the fade, became troublesome."

"I gather you didn't spend your entire life dreaming?"

"No, eventually I was unable to find new areas in the Fade."

"Why?"

"Two reasons. First, the fade reflects the world around it. Unless I traveled, I would never find anything new. Second, the fade reflects and is limited to our imaginations. To find interesting areas, one must be interesting."

"Is that why you joined the inquisition?" 

"I joined the inquisition because we were all in terrible danger." Solas said, his eyebrow raising again. "If our enemies destroyed the world, I would have nowhere to lay my head while dreaming of the fade."

"Well," Avana took a swig from her water skin and stretched her legs out in front of her, leaning back on her hands. "I wish you luck."

"Thank you." Solas leaned forward. "In truth, I have enjoyed experiencing more of life to find more of the fade."

"How so?"

"You train your will to control magic and withstand possession. Your indomitable focus is an enjoyable side effect. You have chosen a path that you do not dislike because it leads to a destination you enjoy, as have I."

Avana felt her mouth twist into a coy smirk. "Indomitable focus?"

"Presumably." Solas leaned toward her, his blue eyes fixed on hers. "I have yet to see it dominated. I imagine the sight would be... fascinating." 

"Hmm." Avana's stomach twisted a bit at his words and the look in his eyes. They held each other's gaze for a long moment. 

"If the two of you are quite finished." Cassandra glared down at them. "We need to get moving if we are to reach the camp by sundown." 

Avana rolled her eyes and stood, offering Solas a hand to stand. They walked back to the horses and set off down the road. 

\-----

The next three weeks passed in a blur of mages, templars, hunting rams, hunting wolves, looking through creepy skulls, picking up strange glowing magical objects they knew nothing about, hunting down horsemasters, and closing rifts. They trudged up and down the roads, covered in dirt and blood and demon unmentionables, painting a fearsome picture to the poor refugees at the crossroads.

By the second week, Avana was exhausted but exhilarated. She had never felt more alive in her life. She revelled in each rift closed, each villager helped, watching the general demeanor of the refugees rise by the day. The day before they were scheduled to leave, a woman and her young daughter approached them in the crossroads. The little girl smiled up at her and presented her with a pair of mittens. They were dirt brown, full of holes, uglier than sin, and Avana would wear them every day for the rest of her life. She hugged the little girl and pulled a protection bead from one of her braids. 

"Weave this into your hair at the start of every day, and no harm will ever befall you." She said to the girl. The child lit up with joy.

"Will you braid it into my hair? Like yours?" She asked, wide brown eyes pleading.

"Hannah, the Herald has enough to do without us troubling her further." Her mother smilled and tugged at Hannah's hand.

"I have a bit of time." Avana said, smiling at Hannah. That's how she found herself sitting cross-legged in the town square, a line of little girls and a few little boys waiting to have their hair braided. The adults milled around, chatting and laughing, and at one point someone dragged out a cask of mead. Varric sat beside her, regaling the waiting children and several adults with stories from his time in Kirkwall. Cassandra wove through the people, no doubt recruiting for the Inquisition. Solas was crafting toys out of ice and giving them to the children. 

Eventually, Avana had given away all her protection beads, and her hair hung around her like a pale blonde cloud. A trio of little girls, led by Hannah, ran up to her, toothy grins on their sweet faces. Hannah crawled up into her lap and placed her hands on Avana's cheeks.

"Can we braid your hair now?" 

Avana laughed and patted her head. "Of course, darling." 

She sat on the ground and the girls all piled on top of her, giggling and pulling at various strands of hair. Solas came to sit next to her as a tavern band struck up a tune, and the townsfolk began to cheer, organizing into lines and breaking out into some kind of folk dance. He had a warm smile on his face as he watched the girls braid Avana's hair, occasionally pointing out bits that were missed or suggesting the placement of a braid. One of the girls untangled herself from Avana and jumped into Solas's lap, much to his surprise, and tugged on his ear so he could lean down and hear her whisper something to him. He smiled down at the little girl and nodded. She gave a squeal of delight and ran off to one of the cottages at the edge of the crossroads.

"What are the two of you plotting over there?" Avana asked. The two little girls finished her hair and jumped back into Avana's lap, giggling. The third little girl came running back, a small mirror in hand. 

"Do the magic!" She said to Solas with a giggle. She jumped into Avana's lap as Solas raised a hand, ice wisping from his fingertips. She felt spots of light chill touch her head, and the little girls gave collective gasps. The girl held up the mirror to her face. 

Her hair was braided down into a long, thick plait made up of several smaller braids. Solas had enchanted snowflakes into the woven strands, causing her hair to glitter in the torchlight. 

"Oh girls, it's beautiful!" Avana swept the girls up in a big hug. They giggled and clung to her. Hannah whispered in her ear:

"May the maker watch over you."

"And may the creators guide your steps." Avana said to her, pulling back and touching her face. Varric called everyone around to tell the story of Lora Hawke, Champion of Kirkwall, and all the children settled around them, the youngest piling into Avana's lap. A little elven girl, a large snowflake holding her dark hair back from her eyes, crawled into Solas's lap and snuggled into his chest, small hand cradling the wolf's jawbone that hung from his neck. Avana's heart warmed in her chest, and she smiled at Solas over the heads of her charges.

It was nearly midnight before the parents collected their children and everyone filed back into their homes or tents. The group hiked back to the Lake Calenhad camp, laughing and talking. Avana felt lighter than she had in two months. Even Varric and Cassandra seemed friendly towards each other.

She woke gasping a few hours later, images of blood running through the streets of the crossroads flashing in her mind. She brought a shaking hand up to wipe the sweat from her brow. Cassandra snored quietly next to her, undisturbed by Avana's nightmare. She pulled on a thick, knitted shawl, grabbed her quilt, and ducked out of the tent.

The night watch nodded to her as she approached the campfire, which was burning low by this time. She tossed on a few extra logs and stoked the fire back up to a roar, setting the kettle on to boil. She pulled a packet of tea out of her bag and placed a pinch of the leaves into a mug.

"Da'len?" Solas ducked out of his tent, coat pulled over his bare chest. His wolf's jawbone glinted against his bare stomach. "Are you alright?"

"Yes Solas, I apologize for waking you." She smiled feebly at him. "Go back to sleep."

"You seem troubled." He padded over to her and sat down on the log next to her. She tried to avoid looking at his bare chest beneath his coat.

"Just a nightmare, is all." Avana pulled a roll of elfroot and blood lotus from her pack, lighting it with a snap of her fingers. She inhaled deeply, feeling the smoke fill her lungs. Almost immediately her pounding heart slowed.

"Perhaps I can offer guidance?" He smiled to her as she exhaled, watching the smoke curl in the air before her. She offered him the joint, and he examined it for a moment before taking it in his slender fingers and inhaling slowly. 

"Just the typical stuff." Avana reached for the kettle as it began to steam, and poured the hot water over her tea leaves. "Care for a cup?"

"I'm afraid not." Solas blew the smoke out in a gentle stream. "I'm not a fan of tea."

"Honestly?" She cast him a look of surprise.

"Does that surprise you?" His lips curled into a grin.

"A little, I won't lie." She took the joint back from him and took a hit. 

"I drank too much of it one day. I vomited everywhere. I haven't been able to drink it since."

Avana crinkled her nose. Solas chuckled and toyed with his pendant, turning to the fire.

"Have you always studied and traveled alone, Hah'ren?"

"Not at all." He took the joint from her as she picked up her mug. "I have built many lasting friendships. Spirits of wisdom, possessed of ancient knowledge, ready to share what they have learned. Spirits of purpose helped me search. Even wisps, curious and playful, would point out treasures I might have missed."

"I don't know any spirits by those names." Avana said as he blew out his smoke, forming rings as he exhaled. She raised her eyebrows at him, and he chuckled. She found she enjoyed the sound.

"They rarely seek this world. When they do, their natures do not often survive exposure to the people they encounter. Wisdom and purpose are to easily twisted into Pride and Desire."

"You're saying you became friends with pride and desire demons?" Avana sipped her tea, studying him closely. 

"They were not demons to me."

"Meaning?"

"The fade reflects the minds of the living." Solas waved his hand, making the flames dance and curl into shapes. "If you expect a spirit of wisdom to be a pride demon, it will adapt. And if your mind is free of corrupting influences? If you understand the nature of the spirit?" The flames formed the image of a young elven woman, smiling brightly at them, before disappearing. "They can become fast friends."

Avana took a long drag of the joint and handed it back to him. "I'm impressed you could become friends with spirits."

"Anyone who can dream has the potential." He fiddled with the joint. "Few ever try. My friends comforted me in my grief and shared my joy. Yet because they exist without form as we understand it, the Chantry declares that spirits are not truly people." He took a drag and ceased playing with the fire. "Is Cassandra defined by her cheekbones and not her faith? Varric by his chest hair and not his wit?"

Avana took the joint from him, fingers brushing against his. "You have an interesting way of looking at the world, Solas." She took a drag of the joint, looking up at him through her lashes as she wrapped her lips around it.

He smirked. "I try. And that isn't quite an answer."

"I look forward to helping you make new friends." She leaned towards him and exhaled the smoke, letting it wash over him. She watched as his eyes took on that predatory gleam, roaming from her eyes to her lips and back. 

"That should be... well."

"That isn't quite an answer either."

Avana closed her lips around the joint again and began to pull when his hand shot out and clamped down on her wrist. She smirked and looked up at him through her lashes, seeing the way his chest rose and fell, lips ever so slightly parted, a hungry look in his eyes that made her core tense.

"Whatever is the matter, Hah'ren?" She murmered in a seductive tone, unsure of what had come over her. She released the smoke from her mouth as she spoke, watching it curl over his collarbones and lips.

He smirked and leaned closer to her. They were now inches apart, his scent intoxicating her. He released her wrist and trailed his fingers up her arm to pluck the joint from her hand. He took a long drag from it and released the smoke, letting it waft in the space between them.

"It is not polite to hog the drugs, da'len." He murmered, sending shivers down her spine. Her heart pounded in her chest. He was so close to her, she only had to lean forward a touch...

"Pardon me, Mistress Lavellan." Avana could have kicked the scout in the shins in that moment. She collected herself and turned to face the young man. "An urgent message for you, from Sister Leliana." 

"Thank you." She took the scroll and he clapped his fist to his chest, leaving the clearing. She read quickly, elation spreading through her chest as she did, hardly daring to believe her good fortune.

"What is it?" Whatever spell she had cast on Solas seemed to have broken, and he was back to his polite, curious self.

"Sister Leliana reports that my brothers and sisters have arrived safely in Haven." A bubble of relieved laughter made it's way up her throat, and she clapped her had to her mouth to stifle it as to not wake the others. Tears pressed against the back of her eyelids, and she opened the scroll again, needing to confirm it to herself to believe it.

Finally, after all this time, she would be returning home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whew Chile this is a long one!
> 
> I promise I like Cullen, he's had a long, hard road to travel and good things are coming his way. We just have to get through some angst first.
> 
> I've seen a lot of fantastic art involving Solas and cigarettes and it's just such a good look. Couldn't help myself.
> 
> Thank you all for reading and for those who have left comments and kudos so far! I love you all! 🥰


	3. Poison Apple

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Avana comes home.

Avana rode like the wind towards the gates of Haven, barely giving the guards time to throw open the gates before barreling through them on her ferelden nag. Her heart pounded in anticipation in tune with the horses hoofbeats. As she burst through the gates and towards the stables, she saw them: four heads of gleaming, white blonde hair. 

She barely gave the horse time to stop at the stables before leaping off the saddle and breaking out into a sprint. The smallest of the blondes ran to meet her, skinny little legs carrying her forward. Avana fell to her knees with a cry and wrapped Alea up in her arms, tears pouring down her cheeks. 

Her other siblings fell to their knees around them, joining their hug with laughter and shared tears. Avana clung to them all, sobbing like a child, letting the tears run freely for the first time since she'd crawled from the fade. Her heart threatened to burst in her chest, after feeling so empty for so long, now flooding with love and affection.

"Oh dearests, oh my darlings, let me look at you." She crooned, backing up to behold their faces. There was Anoren, two years her senior, face and body chiseled by years of the hunt, the mark of Andruil twisted across his handsome features in pale blue ink. Then Arell, slender and delicate, belying his strength, the mark of June scrawled across his face. Anala, beautiful and clever, whose piercing gold eyes saw all, the mark of Sylaise twisting around her left eye. Then sweet Alea, only eight years old, all knobbly knees and clumsy elbows, the pudge of childhood still on her rosy cheeks. 

"You're here." She touched Anala's cheek with a half laugh, half sob. "You're all really here."

"Of course, Ava." Anoren said in his deep, soothing voice. 

"I missed you all so much." She said, touseling Alea's blonde curls. She beamed up at her, and suddenly, Avana felt like she could take on the world. They were here, they were loved, and most importantly, they were safe. 

Avana heard the thunder of approaching horses and turned to see the rest of her party approaching. She gathered Alea up in her arms and turned, standing as Cassandra, Varric, and Solas dismounted and walked towards them. 

"And who do we have here?" Cassandra said, approaching and planting her hands on her hips. 

"Seeker Cassandra Pentaghast, this is my family." Avana introduced her siblings to the party one by one, exchanging pleasantries.

"I see the apple didn't fall far from the tree." Varric said, eyeing Alea's wild curls. 

"Indeed not, Master Tethras." Anoren said. 

"Where are you all staying?" Avana said, turning to them. "Perhaps I could give you a tour-"

"We are wanted in war council post haste, Mistress Lavellan." Cassandra interjected. 

"Oh fine, then." Avana rolled her eyes and clasped Anoren and Arell's hands as Alea slid from her arms, giggling as she walked up to Varric and began eagerly asking questions about Bianca. 

"We were about to go to the mess hall for Dinner, Ava." Arell said. "Maybe you could walk us there on your way?"

"Of course." Avana shot Cassandra a glare as she moved to speak. She clamped her mouth shut.

"Perhaps you would accompany us, Seeker." Anoren said in his booming voice. He extended his elbow to Cassandra, and Avana had to fight her jaw not to fall open as Cassandra actually blushed. 

"Ah, well, I suppose if we are all heading in the same direction..." she took his elbow and the two of them set off ahead of the others, talking quietly. 

"Maferath's balls, did she just blush?" Varric's tone was as incredulous as Avana herself felt.

"Mathorac's what?" They all jumped at Alea's high pitched question.

"Nothing, darling." Avana took Alea's hand and they followed behind Anoren and Cassandra. "I'll tell you when you're older."

They chatted happily as they walked along the path to the mess hall, reminiscing on happier times. Avana couldn't help but feel as though a piece of herself had come back. She had spent so much time alone in unfamiliar territory she had forgotten what it had been like to be amongst family. It filled her chest with a warm glow.

They left her family with Varric and Solas at the mess hall and made for the chantry, but no before Anoren stooped and pressed a kiss to the back of Cassandra's hand. She stormed off to the Chantry, cheeks pink, expression stormy. Avana turned to Anoren, matching wicked grins on their faces.

"Easy, lover boy. I need her coherent for this meeting."

"Jusy having a little fun." Anoren cast her one last wicked grin and followed the rest of their family into the Mess hall. Avana chuckled to herself and turned towards Cassandra's rapidly retreating form.

A ruckus from the doors of the chantry stopped the both of them dead in their tracks. Mages and templars were split in two, each on respective sides, shouting at each other. Avana pushed towards the center as a templar stepped forward to confront a mage.

"Your people killed the most Holy." He snarled, jabbing a finger into the mage's chest.

"Lies! Your people let her die!" The mage spat back. 

"Shut your mouth, mage!" The templar roared, reaching for the pommel of his sword. Avana dove between the two of them, already pulling on her mana, ready to resurrect a barrier around her and the mage, when a gloved hand grabbed her by the upper arm and pulled her away, toward the chantry door. 

"That's ENOUGH." The Commander bellowed, rendering the entire clearing silent. The templar released his sword and straightened. 

"Kn-knight-captain..."

"That is not my title." Rutherford jabbed a finger at the Templar, still holding Avana back by the bicep. "We are not Templars any longer." He turned to the mage, who stood taller, a look of abhorrence in his eyes when Rutherford addressed him. "We are all a part of the Inquisition."

"And what exactly does that mean, exactly?" The crowd parted to reveal Chancellor Roderick, pacing toward them in what he probably assumed was a predatory manner. 

"Chancellor Roderick." Rutherford released Avana, who rubbed her bicep and shot a look of loathing at the back of his golden head. "Back already? Haven't you done enough?"

"I'm curious, Commander, how your Inquisition and it's 'Herald'..." he cast a scathing look at Avana, who had to heavily resist sticking her tongue out at him. "...will restore order, as you've promised."

"Of course you are." The Commander's tone was laced with loathing. He turned to the crowd again. "Back to your duties, all of you." The grumbling crowd dispersed, Chancellor Rodrick slithering into the Chantry to harass Josephine. Avana tried to slink away unnoticed.

"Don't you move." He growled. Avana winced and turned back to him. His eyes were nearly black, anger etched in every line of his face. 

"What the hell were you thinking?" He had probably intended to be quiet, but the growl had heads throughout the clearing turning to them. "You cannot pick sides in this matter!"

"So I was just supposed to stand back and let him be skewered?" Avana shot back, anger rising in her chest.

"You were supposed to let me handle it!"

"And you did. So what's the matter?"

"The matter, " Rutherford took another step closer to her and brandished that damn finger. "Is that you are a key member of this inquisition, and you cannot. Take. Sides."

"I wasn't taking sides!" Avana was yelling now, voice echoing through the clearing. "I was protecting an innocent man!" 

"You were being reckless!' He yelled back. All eyes were on the pair of them now. "Like it or not these people see you as a savior, the Herald of Andraste. You have to be the example."

"I never asked to be!" She felt tears rise up in her throat and pushed them down, letting them feed the boiling rage in the pit of her stomach. "I am not some all knowing savior. I barely know how I'm surviving day to day at this point! I don't know what the hell I'm doing, because it sure as hell isn't my decision!"

"That's enough, both of you." Leliana's sharp voice cut off whatever retort Rutherford had prepared. Her face was calm, but her eyes were sharp as steel. "Go get some rest, Mistress Lavellan. I will send the dossier detailing your next assignment to your quarters. We will discuss further options tomorrow." 

Avana shot one last glare at the Commander, then brushed past the both of them. She remembered herself and stopped a few steps past Leliana. 

"Spymaster." Leliana turned to look at her, eyebrows raised. "Thank you, for delivering my family safely." Leliana's eyes softened for a brief second, then returned to their hardened chips of ice. She nodded to Avana, who then turned on her heel and stormed off to her cabin. 

"I couldn't help but overhear..." Avana jumped as she passed the large bonfire at the bottom of the stairs. Varric was leaning against the brick wall, looking up at her.

"We didn't exactly make it difficult." Avana said, scrubbing at her eyes. 

"I probably should have asked earlier, but better late than never, I suppose." Varric stood straight and planted himself in front of her. The Dwarf came up to her chin, a testament to Avana's own short stature. "How are you holding up, kid?" 

"Great. Fine." Avana glanced back at her cabin, wondering how quickly she could get out of this conversation and into a hot bath.

"Mhm, sure." Varric narrowed his eyes at her. "Tell you what. How about you get washed up and we go grab a pint. My treat."

"You know what, Varric? Sounds great." Avana smiled at her companion. "Give me an hour and I'll meet you at the tavern." 

"Sounds great." He smiled back at her and headed to the tavern. Avana blew out a breath and trudged back up to her cabin. 

She opened the door to the most magnificent sight she could imagine: a large tub, filled with steaming water, and her sisters sitting on the bed, talking quietly with each other. When she entered they got up, smiling at her. 

"Alright, your holy smelliness." Anala held her hand out for her staff, gold eyes glittering. "Into the tub with you." 

"Come up with that one on your own, did you?" Avana smiled gratefully at her sister, belying her snark, and stripped out of her outer garments. Her hair was still in the messy plait Hannah and her friends had arranged, though Solas' snowflakes had long since melted. Alea danced around her, chattering away happily about all of the "fascinating" people she'd met and how she loved "the handsome dwarf" with his orange hair and chiseled chin. Avana snorted at that, determined to tease Varric about it when she saw him at the pub. 

Arell poked his head in as Avana removed her boots. "Alea, come with me."

"Fine."Alea pouted and took Arell's hand. As the door closed behind them, Avana let out a breath she didn't know she'd been holding. 

"She'd been talking nonstop since we arrived." Anala said, collecting Avana's boots. Avana laughed and finished undressing. She slipped into the steaming tub with a groan, the hot water like a breath of fresh air on drowning lungs.

Anala sat behind her and began untangling Avana's braid. "Creators, what did you do to your hair?" 

"Some little girls in Redcliffe wanted to braid it." She sighed as Anala ran her nails over her scalp, the way their mother used to. "How could I say no?"

"Is that where your protection beads went?"

"Ah, yes." Avana leaned her head back and shot her a sheepish smile. "I couldn't help it."

"It's alright, we can always make more." Anala smiled at her as she finished untangling her braid. "Dunk." 

Avana submerged herself in the water, rinsing away the dirt from the road. When she resurfaced Anala handed her a bar of soap and a washcloth, then went to work oiling and detangling her hair. Avana groaned as Anala's nails scraped over her scalp, cleaning the dirt trapped there. 

"You don't need to do this, you know." She said to her.

"Of course I do. Who else is going to keep your sorry ass presentable?"

"I think I manage pretty well on my own." She grumbled. 

"Just let me spoil you for a bit, you miserable creature." Her tone was teasing but held an undercurrent of relief. "We thought we'd lost you. For good. I was so scared you'd never return." 

"So was I." Avana closed her eyes against the tears welling up there. The cabin filled with the scent of bergamot and jasmine as the women finished in silence. Anala dried her hair and began weaving it into a simple relaxed style as Avana soaked, two plaits on each side of her head holding her hair out of her face, joining in a long, thin plait at the back of her head. 

"So, who is that tall, broody elf you travel with?" Anala's voice was conspiratorial.

"Solas? He's our expert on the fade." Avana lifted her left hand to eye the glowing mark on her palm. "He's the only reason I'm even alive right now."

"Then I shall show him my thanks." Anala handed her a towel as she stood and stepped out of the tub. "He had some... interesting, views."

"Yes, He's a bit of an odd duck." Avana dried herself off then began pulling on the clothes Anala had laid out for her, a long-sleeved wine tunic that bisected at each of her hips into tapered points that hung down between her knees, thick brown leggings, and a crossbody equipment belt. They had come with them from her meager belongings back at clan Lavellan. It was what she wore to human cities, to bargain and trade for supplies. It was what she was wearing when she found out about the conclave and brought the information back to Deshanna. 

A piece of information that had changed her life forever.

"He's very handsome, isn't he?" Anala's question brought her back to the present. She shrugged noncommittally, pulling on her thick woolen socks and boots. She pulled a thick woolen shawl over her arms and slid Hannah's gloves over her hands. 

"Would you like to come with me to the Tavern? Have a drink with Varric?" 

"Oh!" Anala's eyes lit up. "Of course! That sounds lovely!" She pulled on her boots and shawl, smoothing her hair down her long fishtail plait and bouncing to the door to join Avana. She giggled as she took Avana's hand, and together the sisters ventured out into the village. 

The tavern was loud and warm, filled with bodies and roaring fireplaces. The scent of ale was nearly suffocating, and Anala clung to Avana's arm as they waded through the crowd to Varric, who was seated at the bar with Anoren. They raised their mugs in salute as the women approached and quickly made room at the bar. 

"Flissa!" Varric called. "Two more ales on my tab, please!" Flissa smiled sweetly and busied herself preparing the drinks, humming along to Maryden's tune. She brought over the ales and a plate of cured meats and cheeses. Avana suddenly felt ravenous and helped herself.

"So," Varric began as she took a swig of her ale."I suppose I couldn't talk you into running?" 

"Who else is going to put a stop to this shit show?" Avana said, toying with the handle of her mug. 

"No idea. But I do know you don't deserve to have this pushed on you." Varric took a swig of his ale, but Avana knew he was sizing her up, looking for a reaction to his words.

"Yeah, well..." she nodded to her eldest brother and sister, whose heads were bent together conspiratorily. "This is where they're safe. I can't very well leave now." 

"Fair." Varric looked at her appraisingly. "I just hope you know what you're getting yourself into."

"Me too, Varric." Avana tilted her tankard back, draining her ale. "Me too."

In her deepest dreams and darkest nightmares, she worried what would happen to her siblings should the Inquisition fail. Would they be forced into an alienage? Sold into slavery? Would they be killed? She felt very tired and heavy suddenly, and it had little to do with the ale and food. 

She caught movement out of the corner of her eye and turned to see Solas approaching her. He inclined his head to the party as he spoke. 

"I apologize for interrupting, but I was wondering if I might borrow Mistress Lavellan for a moment?" 

"Of course." Avana stood, placing her tankard on the bartop. "Thank you for the drink, Varric, but I believe I need to turn in for the evening anyways." She turned to Solas. "Will you walk me back to my cabin?"

"Of course." He extended his elbow and she took in. Anala shot her a giddy grin behind Solas' back and Avana quickly waved her off. No need to make a big deal of something that wasn't there. 

Night was falling as they exited the tavern, a light snowfall beginning in earnest. Avana shivered and drew her shawl around her. Solas seemed unaffected by the cold, but looked down at her and she unconsciously moved closer to him. 

"While we were in the Hinterlands," he began, steering them around a large snowdrift. "I felt the presence of an old artifact of our people. If my research is correct, I believe it could help us strengthen the veil against future tears. If we return, I would like to see if we can find one."

"Of course." She said as they neared her cabin. "They sound extremely beneficial."

"I have no doubt they will be an asset." They stopped in front of her door, snow drifting around them. She untangled her arm from his and was prepared to say good night when he spoke again.

"Your family is quite lovely."

"I am rather fond of them."

"I am particularly interested in Arell. He is quite intelligent."

"He was second to the clan." Avana said. "He's a mage as well, fully realized, but much more fond of books and meditation than offensive magic. That's not to say he can't hold his own, of course." She added. "He's ferocious with storm magic." 

"If he's interested, I'd like to tutor him. And yourself, if you're interested." Solas said.

"That sounds wonderful, Hah'ren." She bowed to him. "I look forward to learning from you."

"No need for that." He chuckled and placed his fingertips on her chin, raising her out of her bow. His hand lingered momentarily on her chin, eyes locking on hers, the predatory look from the campsite returning. His fingers brushed against her cheek for a moment before he snatched his hand away as though burned. Avana let out a breath she didn't know she'd been holding as he stepped back from her.

"Good evening, Avana." He turned and began walking back to his own quarters, graceful as a lion. Avana sighed and ducked into her quarters.

Arell and Alea were snoring softly in her bed. She quietly slipped off her boots and crossbody and crawled into bed with them, shifting Alea so that she was snuggled against her side. Alea muttered in her sleep and curled around her, tiny hands fisting in her tunic, wild hair stuck up around her head. Avana smiled.

She slept peacefully for the first time in two months.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this took so long, real life intruded for a bit and for some reason this chapter was difficult for me. I've edited and edited and for now its as good as it's going to get.
> 
> I hope you enjoy!
> 
> Also, huge thanks to @daitranscripts on Tumblr for their amazing work, this fic would be so much more difficult without them.


	4. And Then There Were Five.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Avana gains a new ally, and learns some things about her current ones.

Avana threw open the doors to the chantry with a loud bang and stormed up the entryway to the war room, boot heels echoing through the chantry. A few chantry sisters moved to chastise her, but one look at her face and they receded back into their alcoves, coughing and muttering to themselves. The docier Leliana had sent was crumpled in her hand. 

"No." Avana announced, throwing open the door and throwing the docier on the table. "I won't do it."

Josephine let out an exasperated sigh. "Mistress Lavellan-"

"I will NOT beg the chantry for support." Avana snarled, pacing like a caged dog. 

"You can't be serious." Avana opened her mouth to snap a retort at Rutherford but caught herself when she realized he was speaking to Josephine.

"Having Mistress Lavellan address the clerics is not a terrible idea." Josephine said in an even tone.

"And we ignore the danger to her?" Leliana snapped. 

"Let us ask her."

"You want me to walk into a pit of vipers and you ask me that?" Avana said, continuing her pacing.

"They are not vipers just because they like to hiss." Josephine said, scribbling something on her clipboard.

"I will go with her." Cassandra said from her perch on the table. "Mother Giselle said she could provide us names? Use them."

"But why?" Leliana said, giving Cassandra an incredulous look. "This is nothing but a-"

"What choice do we have, Leliana?" Cassandra snapped. 

"We could not bend to the Chantry!" Avana said in frustration. 

"Right now, we can't approach anyone for help with the breach." Cassandra sounded weary. "Use what influence we have to call the clerics together. Once they are ready, we will see this through."

Avana conceded with a groan, passing a hand over her face. "When do we leave?"

"Tomorrow." Josephine said, still scribbling away on her clipboard. "The clerics are already gathered in Val Royeaux in light of Justinia's death. It will take a week for you to reach them."

"Tomorrow then." Avana leaned heavily on her hands. She felt a pair of eyes on her and looked up to see the Commander watching her, brow drawn, an unreadable expression in his amber eyes. She turned away from him and stood, straightening her jacket. 

"Are there any more concerns to attend to this morning?"

"Not at this time, Mistress Lavellan." Josephine said, a kind smile on her face.

"Good. If you'll all excuse me..." she turned and exited the war room, not bothering to hold the door from slamming shut. 

"Mistress Lavellan." She nearly collided with a mage outside the door. She blinked for a moment, recognizing the mage she had jumped in front of yesterday outside the Chantry. "May I have a word with you?" 

"Oh, yes of course." Avana smiled at the man, which he returned weakly, and gestured toward an alcove near the Chantry door. He followed her there, and took a deep breath before beginning.

"I assume you are not intimately familiar with the goings on of the circles?" 

"I'm afraid you are correct. My knowledge is limited only to the fact that mages have suffered great abuses at the hands of templars and the Chantry."

"How well do you know the Commander?" His voice was strained. She quirked an eyebrow at him. 

"Not well, I'm afraid." 

"You know he was a templar before, Knight-Captain of the Kirkwall Circle?"

"I do..." Avana watched the man with guarded eyes. As he opened his mouth to speak the war room door opened again, and the man jumped as Rutherford's deep baritone echoed through the hall, conversing with Josephine. 

"Speak with Master Tethras, he was there, he knows." And with that the man was gone, disappearing like mist off a waterfall, leaving Avana with many more questions than answers. She caught the Commander's eye as he passed the alcove, and he paused for a moment, seemingly caught in a moment of indecision. Then he made his way over to her, and she groaned inwardly. 

"Are you all right?" He asked, hands resting on the pommel of his sword. 

"Fine." Avana blurted out, eyes roaming to the exit. 

"Lavellan..." he sighed, running a hand over the back of his neck. "I wanted to apologize for yesterday."

Avana, for once, was struck dumb.

"I realize I cannot ask you to stand idly by while someone is in danger, as I could no longer ask myself. It was selfish of me, and I let my anger get the better of me yesterday."

"I..." Avana clamped her mouth shut with a clack, fumbling for words. "Ah... thank you, Commander. I apologize for my harsh words as well. As you may have figured, I am not a patient woman."

He gave a chuckle. Avana was extremely uncomfortable, shuffling her feet beneath her. "I... ah... I need to go prepare, talk to my siblings and my companions, Varric in particular. I don't want him hungover on this ride."

"Of course." Rutherford inclined his head and she left the building as politely yet quickly as she could. 

\-----

They set off early the next morning, before the sun had even risen over the horizon. Though Avana was grateful to be away from her war council, she regretted having to leave her family again so soon. Alea had cried, clutching her coat and begging her not to leave again. Avana had nearly given in, but knew she couldn't. So she left Alea with Anala with promises of letters written every day. 

She kept to her promise, sending letters out by raven every morning before the rest of her team awoke and receiving them every evening. Anoren had begun training with the recruits under Commander Rutherford, and was quickly proving himself to be one of the most capable soldiers in his company. It filled Avana's stomach with dread to think of Anoren out on the front lines of battle, but she knew he wouldn't be happy unless he was contributing. 

Anala had been recruited into the kitchens, which would have concerned Avana if she didn't love to cook. Arell was working with Adan in the infirmary, as well as Minaeve in his spare time. According to the letters, he was researching well into the night and rising early in the morning, steps light and sure, his purpose clear. Anala commented she had never seen him so happy.

Alea had begun tutelage with the other children of Haven, making friends easily and playing all afternoon with the other children. It occurred to Avana that Alea's ninth birthday was approaching in the coming month, and resolved to bring her a present back from Val Royeaux. 

Solas remained distant throughout the journey, never spending too much time near Avana and turning in early every evening. He was quiet and reserved, keeping to himself at meals and remaining behind the three of them on his steed while on the road. 

"Did I say something to offend him?" Avana asked Varric on the third evening as they sat around the campfire, eating nug stew. Solas had just excused himself early yet again, ducking into their tent. They had all agreed to share a tent on this trip, as supplies were running low and the people of the Hinterlands needed them more than they did. 

"Not that I've heard, but I'm not him, so I couldn't tell you." Varric shrugged, dipping a chunk of bread into his stew. 

"Every time I try to talk to him he brushes me off." She muttered, pushing a piece of nug meat around her bowl.

"Maybe he's just going through it right now. One of his spirit friends made fun of his bald head." 

Avana shook her head and put a spoonful of soup in her mouth. If he wanted to distance them, that was fine. That was his business.

So why did it bother her?

They made it to Val Royeaux two days earlier than expected and pitched camp at the edge of the city, in a sunlit grove near a river. Avana longed for a bath, and after nearly five days on the road she desperately needed one, as did the rest of her team. The added bonus of sharing a tent had left little doubt on that plane. 

Once the fire had been started, Cassandra left to hunt, Solas went searching for herbs, and Varric took watch, leaving Avana to get the bath she'd been looking forward to. 

Avana approached the gently moving river and sighed, letting her hand trace the water. It was blessedly warm. She untied her braids and let her hair hang loose down her back. She stripped out of her clothes and waded into the water, submerging herself with a content sigh. As she let the river water wash the dirt of their travels away, she let her mind wander to the task ahead of her.

She abhorred the idea of begging to the chantry. The things she'd heard of what they did to mages, people like her, were unspeakable. They did not deserve her grace. They did not deserve her forgiveness.

They deserved to be burned to the fucking ground.

But she'd begun this mission in good faith, and she doubted Cassandra would allow such a thing. 

She pulled her smalls and breastband into the river and washed them as best she could, then pulled them on and got busy scrubbing the dirt and grime from the road off her armor and clothes. When she finished she lay them out on a nearby rock to dry and found another one to recline on, letting the afternoon sun dry her skin and hair. A stick cracked in the woods behind her and she sat up, hand reaching for her staff where it leaned against the rock next to her. 

Solas appeared, hands held up in surrender. "Lethallin. I apologize, I did not mean to startle you."

"Solas." She relaxed, sitting back on the rock. "Come for a bath?"

"I did, in fact." He leaned his staff on the rock next to hers and turned away, pulling his shirt over his head. Avana lay back on the rock, averting her eyes to give him some privacy. Although they had all given up on the concept, having shared a tent the last four nights, and elves didn't have the same aversion to nudity dwarves and humans did, she was still confused about her feelings towards Solas, and seeing him naked wouldn't help matters. There was a splash as he submerged himself.

"I found some excellent spindleweed up the bank." Solas called. "We should gather more to bring back with us." 

She sat up on her elbows to look at him. He was waist deep in the water, back still to her, sun gleaming on his pale skin. She forced her eyes away from his broad shoulders and the dimples at his lower back. "Of course. I'm sure Adan will appreciate the supply." 

Solas nodded and submerged himself fully in the water. Avana lay back on the rock, feeling the sunshine saturate her skin. She heard him re-emerge and begin washing. 

"Solas?" She asked, not opening her eyes. "If I have done something to offend you, I would make it right."

He was quiet for a moment, the water ceasing it's splashing. "What could you have done to offend me?"

"I don't know. You've been distant since we left. I feared I said or did something to upset you."

She heard him sigh and opened her eyes, sitting up and crossing her legs. He waded towards her rock, water lapping over his hip bones. 

"Please forgive me, lethallin." He said, leaning against the rock and resting his chin on his arms. His eyes were fixed on a point in the distance, lost in thought. "I had not intended to make friends while I was here. I did not think I could trust anyone, and I fear my attachment to you. So much is unknown." 

"I've said it before, Solas." Avana reached out to clasp his hand. His eyes snapped to hers, wary. "I won't let them do anything to you."

"And I will do my best to protect you." He said, turning his hand under hers to squeeze her fingers. "But I fear my ability to do so against the Chantry. I'm only one man."

"But a good one." Avana said firmly.

"What do you know of who I am?" His brow furrowed, a tortured expression marring his features.

"Just what you've told me." She sighed and placed a hand on his cheek. "Whatever happens with the breach, or the Chantry, I'm going to be fine. I've survived this long, I may survive longer. And I've seen you, how you interact with people, your values. You are a good man."

Solas looked down, brow furrowed further. Before she could speak again the sound of footsteps approaching cut her off, and she withdrew from him, turning to see Cassandra stomping towards the river, covered head to toe in blood. 

"We have ram for dinner tonight." She said with a self satisfied grin, unbuckling her armor and dumping it on the ground. She stripped down to her smalls and fell backwards into the water with an enormous splash, spraying Solas with flecks of bloody river water. Avana clamped a hand to her mouth, giggling at the annoyed look on his face as Cassandra re-emerged, considerably less gory and grinning ear-to-ear. He looked at Avana, a mischievous grin spreading across his face. Avana quit giggling at once.

"Oh no, Solas, please I just got dryyyyyAY!" Avana tried to scramble off the rock, but Solas was faster, catching her by the ankle and dragging her to his chest before dunking them both under the water. Avana resurfaced with a splutter to hear Cassandra and Solas laughing.

"I lied. You're an ass." 

Solas laughed harder, throwing his arms up over his face as Avana splashed water at him. She was so busy exacting revenge she didn't hear Cassandra sneak up behind her until she was thrown over the woman's shoulder into the river. She spluttered, their peals of laughter echoing through the clearing. She slid back under the water, grabbing Cassandra by the ankles and pulling her under. She burst up and swam to the side, cackling as Cassandra emerged, cursing like a sailor. Solas was grinning. 

"What in Andraste's saggy tits is going on over here?" Varric said, stomping over to the lakeside. The three of them shared a look, grinned at each other, and charged the bank.

\----

"Well, shit." Varric said as they stood in the Val Royeaux marketplace the next day, watching the receding backs of the templars as they left the capital for the last time. 

Avana nodded in agreement. Cassandra stood next to her, frozen in disbelief.

"Are you all right, Cassandra?"

"I am... confused." Cassandra turned to her, determination in her eyes. "Come, let us return to Haven-"

An arrow whizzed past them and struck the ground just left of Avana's foot. There was a note attached to it. Avana untied it and read it aloud. 

"Favors for favors for friends."

She looked at the rest of them, and Varric shrugged. Avana kept reading. 

"People say you're special. I want to help, and I can bring everyone. 

"There's a baddie in Val Royeaux. I hear he wants to hurt you. Have a search for the red things in the market, the docks, and 'round the cafe, and maybe you'll meet him first. Bring swords."

Avana folded the paper and slid it into her belt. She turned to the other three. "Thoughts?"

"It cannot hurt to investigate." Solas said.

"It could be a trap." Cassandra said, crossing her arms.

"Most traps don't outright warn you of danger." Varric said.

"I think it's worth a look." Avana said, turning towards the docks and gesturing onward. They spent the rest of the afternoon hunting down the clues, stopping here and there for supplies. Avana found a stuffed nug toy in a shop in the upper stands for Alea. As they exited the shop a glint of red caught her eye.

"The last one. Points to a villa on the outskirts." She folded the letter into her belt. "I guess this is it then. Time to find out if we get shanked or not." 

"Preferably not." Varric grumbled. 

They made their way to the main gate. A messenger waved them over. 

"Madame De Fer sends her regards." The messenger bowed and exited. Avana opened the letter.

"An invitation. To the salon of Madame Vivienne de fer next month."

"Time for a ball gown?" Varric smirked.

"Not on your damned life." 

"Grand Enchanter Fiona?" Cassandra straightened up, eyebrows lifting. An elven woman appeared, dressed in circle robes, black hair pulled back into a bun.

"May I have a word?" She said.

"Is it not dangerous for you to be here?" Solas asked, one eyebrow arched.

"We did not know you survived the conclave." Cassandra said.

"I sent a retainer in place, in case it was a trap." Fiona said. "As for my safety, it was worth laying eyes on the fabled Herald of Andraste herself." Fiona turned to Avana. "I would like to extend an invitation to Redcliffe Castle. I believe we can help you in your quest to close the breach."

"And the price of your help?" Avana crossed her arms over her chest, eyeing the woman suspiciously. 

"To be discussed." Fiona said. "For now, we simply wish to make an alliance." She began to back into the shadows. "We eagerly await your arrival, Inquisition." With those parting words, Fiona was gone.

"Interesting, to say in the least." Solas said.

"Come, let us get to this Villa and meet these friends." Cassandra said, turning to the gate. "The sooner that's over, the sooner we can get back to Haven."

\----

A bolt of fire whizzed past her head as she entered the courtyard. An Orlesian noble stood in the center, poised like a peacock.

"Herald of Andraste." He began. "How much did it cost you to discover me? It must have weakened the inquisition immeasurably." 

"I don't even know who you are." Avana said.

"You don't fool me. I'm too important for this to be an accident. My efforts will survive in victories against you elsewhere."

His guards gave grunts of pain and fell to the ground. An elven woman appeared from behind them, bow drawn at the noble. 

"Just say 'what.'" She snarled.

"What is the-" an arrow buried itself in his eyeball, and the noble fell to the ground, blood pouring to the concrete beneath him.

"Ergh!" The elf pulled a face and approached the noble. "Squishy one, but you heard me right?" She bent to the noble's side as Avana approached. "'Just say what.' Rich tits always try for more than they deserve. Blah blah blah," she ripped the arrow from the nobles skull, blood and viscera stuck to it. "Obey me, arrow in my face."

"So you read the notes well enough. Glad to see you're..." she turned to Avana, and her face immediately twisted into a grimace. "Aaaaaand you're an elf."

"Is that a problem?" Avana raised her eyebrows and crossed her arms.

"Nah, it's all good, innit? The important thing is that you glow? You're the Herald thingy?"

"Sure, why not, I glow. Now who are you and what's this all about?" Avana was losing her patience.

"No idea, I don't know this idiot from manners." The elf cleaned the arrow off on her ragged overshirt and placed it back in her quiver. "My people just though the inquisition should look at him."

"Your people? Elves?"

She scoffed. "No. People people." She gestured to a pile of crates nearby. "Name's Sera. This is cover, get round it." When Avana didn't move Sera scoffed. "For the reinforcements! Don't worry, someone tipped me their equipment shed." Her face broke out in a wicked grin. "They have no breeches!"

Avana had to fight off a laugh. Luckily, the promised reinforcements burst through the doors at that moment, saving her a retort. Sera lept on top of a nearby stack of crates and began loosing arrows, cackling maniacally. Avana lay down fire runes at the bottom of the steps, incinerating two of the guards. She fade stepped to the other two and sliced their throats with the blade of her staff, blood mixing on the stones below. A stone fist flew past her and crushed the head of another approaching guard. She turned and saw Varric backed into a corner, Solas turning to apprehend the guard. She fade-stepped past Solas and put her staff blad through the guard's throat, spraying Varric with his blood. 

"That's the last of them." Cassandra said, wiping her sword on her pants. 

"Friends really came through with that tip. No breeches!" Sera laughed and kicked a dead guard. She turned to Avana.

"So, Herald of Andraste, you're a strange one. I'd like to join."

"Can we take a moment for sense to reassert itself?" Avana flicked some gore off her sleeve. "Who are you people?"

"I'm not people. But I get what you want, it's like this. I sent you a note to look for stuff hidden by my friends. The friends of Red Jenny. That's me! Well," Sera looked thoughtful. "I'm one. So is a fence in Montfort, a woman in Kirkwall. There were three in Starkhaven, brothers or something. It's just a name, yeah? It lets little people, 'friends,' be part of something while they stick it to nobles they hate. So here, in your face, I'm Sera. The 'Friends of Red Jenny' are sort of out there. I used them to help you. Plus arrows."

Avana's head hurt. "The Inquisition has spies already. Can you add to these professionals?"

"Here's how it is." Sera spread her hands like a portrait frame. "You big people are up there, shoving your cods around, blah blah 'I'll crush you, I'll crush you... ooooh crush you." Sera cleared her throat. Cassandra made a disgusted grunt behind Avana. 

"Then, you've got cloaks and spy-kings, like this tit, or was he one of the little knives? All serious with his... little knife. All those secrets, and what gave him up? Some house boy who don't know shite, but knows a bad person when he sees one. So no, I'm not knifey-shivdark, all hidden, but if you don't listen down here too, you risk your breeches. Like those guards, I stole their...?" Sera's brow furrowed. "Look, do you need people or not?" 

Avana rubbed the sore spot that had manifested between her brows. "Alright Sera, I can use you and your friends." 

Cassandra made a light noise of protest behind her, and Avana shot her a look. But Sera hadn't noticed. 

"Yes! So, Haven? See you there, Herald. This will be grand!" 

She skipped off and leapt over the wall, disappearing into the night. Cassandra placed herself in front Avana, crossing her arms.

"Have you gone quite mad?" She said. "We have no idea what this group is, let alone-"

"Wasn't it you who said we need agents in more places?" Avana interrupted, placing her hands on her hips. "I'll send a raven to Leliana, warn her of Sera's arrival, and see what she knows of the Friends of Red Jenny. If it's bad, she can be detained. If not, we gained an ally." 

Cassandra struggled for a moment. Avana didn't give her time to reply. "Let's head back to camp. I have a headache." She turned and led them out of the courtyard. 

\----

That night, as Avana walked the fade, she came across a cave in the side of a mountain, covered by a wooden door. She had a strong urge to knock, and when she did, a low female voice called "come in."

She opened the door to what looked like a smithy. Weaponry lined the walls, sharp and wicked looking, from greatswords with bloodred blades to battle axes of dragon bone. Sitting at a grindstone was a qunari woman with golden gilded horns and long white hair, sharpening a battle ax. She looked up at Avana as she entered. 

"Ashaa." Avana took a seat at the bench next to her. 

"Herald." She smirked as Avana shuddered.

"Avana works fine." 

"Wine?" Avana nodded and Ashaa manifested two glasses filled with ruby red liquid and handed one to her. She took a deep sip. 

"So," Ashaa said, placed the greataxe aside and swirling her goblet. "About Sera..."

"Who is she?" Avana asked.

"A misunderstood girl, but a steadfast, loyal ally. Once her trust is earned." Ashaa sipped her wine, eyes taking on a glassy look. "And a damn good lay."

"Were the two of you lovers?" 

"She was my wife." 

Avana's eyes widened. "Oh." 

Ashaa chuckled. "She has a bit of a thing for Qunari women. And I have a thing for women I can pick up and throw. Not that she'd ever let me." Ashaa sighed. "She was the one good thing I did in my life." 

"I'm sorry for your loss." Avana didn't know what to say. 

"Oh, she joined me soon after my death. She was executed for assassinating Divine Victoria. She was avenging me." Ashaa lowered her eyes to her goblet. "Not that I deserved it."

"What happened?" Avana asked. "If you're comfortable talking about it."

"I got the wrong Divine elected. The second she was in power she declared me a heratic and ordered my capture and beheading." Ashaa drained her goblet and refilled it with a snap. "We gave them a good chase, but in the end they caught up to us. I sacrificed myself so she could escape, build a new life. Instead she wasted her chance to get revenge." 

"Ah."

"It's a shit show, I know. But that's it. As long as you look out for the little people, the two of you will be thick as thieves." Ashaa raised her glass to her lips, then paused. "And cakes. Lots of cakes."

"Cakes?" 

"Oh yeah, and pie. Cherry."

"Noted." Avana felt her body begin to stir in the waking, and set her goblet down. "I'm out of time for this evening, but thank you for your insight, Ashaa. I will take care of Sera."

Ashaa's eyes softened. "Thank you, Avana."

And with that Avana woke and sat up. She sighed, watching her breath puff out in the crowded tent. The tent was still dark, no light peeking through the small gaps, and the rest of her companions were still asleep. Cassandra was snoring, arms thrown about her head. Varric was completely covered in his blanket, a small lump nestled between Solas and Cassandra. Solas was lying on his side, facing her, arm tucked under his head, breathing slow and deep in rest. 

She took a moment to check the wards they had set before settling back down in her bedroll. She couldn't help but feel a weight had lifted off her chest after speaking to Ashaa, knowing she has made the right decision about Sera. The accuracy of her past lives' guidance was so far irrefutable. She just hoped her luck held. 

Avana felt eyes on her and turned her head to see Solas had woken, though he was looking at her through sleep-heavy eyes, as if not fully awake. She cast him a small smile.

"Hey."

"Hello. Why are you awake? Did something trip the wards?"

"No, lethallan. I simply woke early. Nothing to worry about, go back to sleep." 

Solas nodded but did not close his eyes. Avana rolled on her side to face him, reaching out to massage the tension line that had formed in the center of his forehead. He allowed it, for a moment, then gripped her hand, lowering it to the ground between them, but didn't let go. They lay together silently, hands intertwined, staring into each other's eyes. Avana's throat was dry, and a deep panic was beginning to stir her stomach. She pulled her hand from his.

"Tell me a story, Solas." She whispered. 

"What would you like to hear, da'len?"

"Something from your travels in the fade. A spirit you encountered, perhaps?"

He thought for a moment. "I encountered a spirit of compassion near a small village to the west. It heard the wishes of the young girls in the village and steered them towards boys with gentle hearts and kind souls. That small village never knew it's fortune." 

"Indeed." She smiled wistfully. "I could have used that wisdom when I was young."

"You have loved before?"

"Once." She thought back wistfully to a simpler time, when her face held no Vallaslin, rough kisses and bruising fingers, pain and heartache. "I was fourteen. Too young to know better. He was nineteen. The other women warned me but I was too headstrong to listen, if you can imagine." She sighed. "He beat me. Alienated me from my family. Convinced me they didn't love me. Even convinced me to run away with him. My father found us, but too late." 

"I take it it didn't end well for him?" Solas said.

"My father killed him." Blood running down the stone of the cottage, in her hair, empty black eyes staring into the void. "I've never loved again. People take and take and never give. It's easier to keep things physical."

Solas was quiet for a moment, brow furrowed. Cassandra stopped snoring and was beginning to stir. Avana turned over with a small smile, mouthing a silent "thank you" to him. She closed her eyes and fell into blissfully dreamless sleep. 

\------

Avana pulled up to Varric the next day on the road, nodding to the Dwarf to fall back from the others. Cassandra and Solas were discussing (arguing) possible ways the mages could be of use, and didn't notice the pair of them falling back. Once they were at a safe distance, Avana broached her topic of concern.

"Varric, you knew Commander Rutherford from Kirkwall, correct?"

"Curly?" Varric chuckled. "Yeah, bit of a tightass. Why?"

"A mage approached me before we left. He wanted to tell me something about him, but lost his nerve when the Commander entered the chantry. I understand he was the Knight-Captain of Kirkwall?"

"Yeah, second in Command to Meredith." Varric's face was grim. "Kirkwall was hell for mages. They were tortured, oppressed in the worst way. A few resorted to blood magic. The rest is history." 

"Rutherford tortured mages?"

"Curly..." Varric sighed, rubbing the back of his head. "Curly allowed certain abuses to go unchecked. He carried out orders for rites of annulment that never should have been given. Meredith used him, lied to him. It wasn't entirely his fault."

"Bullshit." Rage bubbled up in Avana's stomach. "Everyone has a mind of their own. He should have used his." 

"In his defense, he did the right thing in the end. He stood up to Meredith for Hawke. Helped the mages, and the town, recover after the circle exploded."

"One good act does not excuse an entire career of neglect." Avana snapped the reins on her horse, urging her forward, anger flowing through her like lava down a mountainside. "Come on, let's get back."

Avana thought of the task ahead as they rode on. She would be bringing the mages to Haven, whether her war council liked it or not. And she needed to know they would be safe, would feel safe. Many of them had to be from Kirkwall. They would never feel comfortable with that man around. 

One way or another, she would bring him to justice.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Lots of dialouge. Lots of research.
> 
> If I got any Elvehn wrong so far let me know, I've been trying to research it but I'm still having a hard time getting it straight. 
> 
> I love Sera. If you've ever played through her romance arc you know how absolutely precious it is and I just want all the good things for her. 
> 
> Thank you all for reading so far!


	5. How the Mighty Fall

The arrived at Haven early on the tenth morning, weary and ragged. Avana slid from her horse with a sigh, wiping her brow on the sleeve of her cloak, grimacing when it came away brown with dirt and dust. Cassandra dismounted next to her and nodded in the direction if the chantry, and Avana leaned her head back and groaned. Cassandra shot her a chastising look and marched onward, Avana in tow. 

The townspeople were just stirring, soldiers on patrol greeting them as they walked by with salutes and greetings of "Seeker, Herald." Avana was too tired to contest it, giving them a half-hearted wave back, grimacing at the rapidly approaching chantry doors. Cassandra placed a hand on her shoulder to still her. 

"One moment, Avana." Avana nearly reeled back at the use of her name rather than a title. "I wanted to take a moment to thank you. We have asked a great deal of you, more than was fair, and I am seeing that it has taken a toll. I wish to apologize for my ignorance, early in our relationship, when I asked you if there was room for one more god in your life." Her brows drew together, heavy with regret. "That was unbelievably selfish of me."

"I..." She was floored. "Thank you, Cassandra."

Cassandra squeezed her shoulder and lead the way into the Chantry, a befuddled Avana trodding along behind her. 

\-----

"I still think the Templars deserve a chance to try!" The Commander said, leaning against the table. "It's better than potentially walking into a trap."

Avana gave a silent groan, head rolling against the back of her chair. They had been arguing for hours, back and forth, on who to approach for help with the breach. They had gotten virtually nowhere, Rutherford and Cassandra arguing for the utilization of the Templars, the former more vehemently than the latter, while Avana, Josephine, and Leliana argued for the Free Mages. The headache that had been forming behind her eyes upon their arrival was now a full blown pounding in her skull. 

"And as I said before," Leliana countered, eyes sharp on Rutherford. "We can mitigate the circumstances to our advantage."

"We simply do not have the pull with the nobles to approach the templars." Josephine added, her usual pristine posturing gone, slumped against the table and cradling her cheek in her hand. 

"I still think we can get them to talk." Rutherford said. "We cannot trust the mages-"

"Not to turn into abominations in front of us and bite our heads off?" Avana interrupted. "And here I was feeling a little tentacle-y."

"Avana." Cassandra snapped, glaring at her. She ignored her.

"What exactly do you intend the Templars to do? Chuck swords at the giant magic hole in the sky? I'm pretty sure that hasn't worked in the last millenia or two but sure, why not give it a go while the entire world hangs in the balance?" 

"Chuckin' swords at holes, that's a good one." A wild cackle came from the rafters, and they all looked up to see Sera hanging from said rafters by her knees, grinning maniacally. 

"Out!" Cassandra barked, gesturing violently to the door. Sera cackled and dropped on top of the table, scattering papers and upsetting inkwells in her flight from the war room. Avana was the only one who hadn't moved in the ruckus, watching a black stain spread across Orlais.

"What came over you to invite a creature like that to the Inquisition?" Rutherford asked, attempting to shake ink off a stack of requisitions. 

"Entertainment?" Avana shrugged. "The prospect of watching you quiver with rage?" 

Another loud cackle echoed through the Chantry. Rutherford grumbled under his breath, and Avana caught something to the effect of "You can do that yourself." She ignored it.

"Sera may be a nuisance," Leliana said, unperturbed as always. "But she is invaluable. Her network may be baffling at best, but I have no doubt her contribution will be a large one."

"Best not let her hear you say that." Avana said, propping her feet up on the table. Rutherford scowled at her. 

"Back to the matter at hand..." Avana's patience pulled tight like a band, threatening to snap. 

"I will be leaving in a week's time for Redcliffe to at least hear the mages out." She said, leaning forward and planting her feet on the floor. "That is not up for debate. Support me if you will, disown me if you must, but that is what is happening." 

"Do you honestly think the rebel mages are any better organized than the templars?" The Commander began, seething. "They are power hungry, desperate to grab hold to anything they can-"

Avana's patience snapped. 

"You will do well to remember, Commander, that the rebel mages have survived years of abuse and neglect at the hands of templars and overcome it. This is their first taste of freedom, for many of them the first they've had since childhood." Avana stood, planting her hands on the table. Her ambient magic began to drift around her, a simmering blanket of energy. She saw the Commander's hand twitch on the pommel of his sword. "Is it truly the safety of the people you're concerned about?" Or is it the prospect of seeing those you lorded over free, at last, to pursue their own lives away from Chantry influence and the control of weak willed, simple minded men such as yourself that worries you so?"

The room had gone dead silent. Rutherford's eyes had gone hard as chips of Obsidian. 

"Would that be how you'd have me? Bound as they were, thrown into a cell where I could be controlled, beaten into submission then paraded around like a shiny doll when you all willed it?" Avana could see sparks floating in her peripheral vision, the heat of her ambient magic nearly suffocating. She stepped around the table towards him. "Just a porcelain toy you can bring down off the shelf to prove the Inquisition is accepting of all, just to throw away when I break?"

"Avana..." Cassandra's tone was a warning. 

"You knew what he was too, Seeker. You're the one who recruited him, after all." Avana lifted a hand. "Just remember, when I bring the mages back from Redcliffe, I will burn this place to the damn ground if a single one of them reports any mistreatment from you or any other templars." She snapped and the stack of requisitions Rutherford held burst into flames.

He dropped the flaming papers with a hiss and lunged for her, grabbing her by the front of her robe and hauling her up to eye level with him. There were screams of "NO!" from Cassandra and Josephine, a flurry of footsteps and more unintelligible shouting, but Avana was laughing, cackling even, reveling at the loss of self control on both their parts. His dagger was at her throat, hers at his ribs, sparks of ambient magic still floating between them. She wondered briefly if he would try to silence her, shocked he hadn't yet.

He released her suddenly and backed away as if he'd been burned, breathing heavily. She dropped to the floor, cackling like a mad hyena, and began to back toward the door, sheathing her knife. 

"Whatever you pretend to be, you are still a templar, through and through. Weak minded and weak willed." She backed out of the war room, her mad cackling echoing through the chantry and out into the courtyard. She took off at a sprint, running as fast as she could, unfeeling, cold-blooded laughter following in her wake. She made it to the outskirts around the lake before collapsing next to a tree, laughter turning quickly to choking, wrenching sobs, the snow falling around her in gentle, drifting waves, catching in her hair, under her collar, cooling her burning skin. 

She sobbed until she couldn't anymore and the tears froze to her skin. She wept for the circle mages, Kirkwall and otherwise, ripped from their families and caged like animals, for her brothers and sisters, torn from their own lives and displaced into a town full of hateful shemlen who could never love them like a clan could. She wept for Solas, fearful yet brave, staying behind for a promise she wasn't sure she could keep. She wept for Varric, brought here a prisoner and staying because of the shackles of responsibility he had ensnared himself in. She even wept for Cassandra and her unyielding faith.

She sat hugging the tree until the sun disappeared beyond the moutain range. An odd feeling of warmth had suffused her, despite the cold, and she knew it was the beginning of hypothermia. She had left her cloak in the war room in her fit of hysteria, and the cold had quickly cut through her robes and armor, sorry state they were in. She thought for a moment how lovely it would be to let the cold take her, to stay curled around the tree for eternity, frozen in her final pose of misery and regret, one with the old trunk for eternity...

Soft footfalls approached her through the dim of her dangerous thoughts, and stopped in front of her. She looked up to see Solas's face, twisted in concern. 

"Oh, lethallin." He said softly, dropping to his knees and shrugging his cloak off. He pried her frozen fingers from the tree trunk with a soft "fenedhis" and curled them in his own, warming them with his palms. He threw the cloak around her and gathered her up in his arms, and her sobs began again in earnest, tears freezing instantly to her cheeks. 

"What have they done to you?" He whispered, rocking her back and forth as she sobbed into his chest, clinging to his tunic. 

"I've failed, Solas." She gasped between sobs, barely able to speak through the shivers racking her body. "I've failed you all. I can't do this." 

"Come, let's get you warm." She curled into him as he lifted her, carrying her frozen form back up the path to Haven. Eventually her sobs faded, leaving her to cling to him. His signature scent of herb and citrus flooded her, and she was surprised to find it brought her comfort. She heard the whispers as they passed the gates of heaven, and soon thundering footfalls approached.

"Is that her?" Cassandra's voice was worried. "Is she alright?" 

"She will be fine, Seeker." Solas's voice reverberated through his chest, vibrating against her cheek. "Allow me to attend to her." 

"Of course, Solas. Thank you." 

"Avana!" Anala's horrified voice cut through the dark. "Oh, creators..." 

"I can't let them see me like this, Solas." She whispered to him.

"Mistress Lavellan, I am afraid your sister is not well enough for company at the moment. Please, allow me to help her, then I will send for you when she is ready."

"Oh... of course, Master Solas." Her voice sounded worried and a little hurt. Avana reached out to clasp Anala's fingers and felt her sister jump.

"Fenedhis, Ava, you're like ice."

"I'm okay, Nala. Please, just give me some time." 

"Of course." Anala squeezed her fingers and stepped back, finally allowing them to reach the door to her cabin. Solas set her gently on the bed and got to work building up the fire. Avana curled into the pillows and blankets, shivering as the fire warmed the room, and watched as Solas worked, potion bottles clinking and the crunch of herbs against the mortar and pestle. He set a kettle on the fire to boil, then moved to her side. 

"Come, by the fire." He picked her up and placed her next to the fireplace. He helped her shrug out of her wet robes and armor, unlaced and removed her boots, then moved to the bathtub to fill it with ice and slowly warm it. 

Avana stared into the flames as her body thawed, watching as they licked up the side of the fireplace. Her damp leggings and tunic dried slowly against her skin, forcing feeling back into her limbs. But her chest felt numb, empty, hollow, like a broken jar, cracked and unsealable. She watched the flames as they danced in the hearth, tingling fingers reaching for the vallaslin of Sylaise over her left eye, swirling in a dance across her features, as the fire lept and spun across the logs.

Deshanna had been surprised when Avana had selected Sylaise's markings, commenting that she had expected Falon'din or Mythal from her. Avana had shrugged it off, remarking that she enjoyed fire, but it went so much deeper than that. She was thankful to Sylaise, for it was she who brought the elves fire. She had given Avana not only a means of survival, but a weapon with which to protect her family and herself. Perhaps that was not as she intended, but it was a gift nonetheless, and if the world needed a hearthkeeper, she would give the world a goddamned hearthkeeper. 

She didn't regret her words to Rutherford. She wouldn't simply move on as it were and pretend his crimes were not abhorrent. She regretted more that the confrontation had caused what was left of her barrier to shatter like a teacup against stone. If she was to protect her family, she had to prove she was in control. This had done nothing but show them she was no better than him, a slave to her own rage.

"Avana." Solas' voice cut through her reverie. She looked up at him as he crouched next to her, worried expression on his face. "Are you alright?" 

"I'm fine." She lied, doing her best to paint a reassuring smile across her face. His mouth pressed into a firm line, clearly not convinced. 

"The bath is ready. I've prepared it with some healing herbs to heal some of the scarring and protect you from the worst of the heat. I will leave you with Anala-."

"Stay." She was clutching his wrist without registering how she had moved. He nodded, tension in his face relaxing slightly. He helped her stand and guided her to the bathtub on wobbling legs, weakness stealing through her body. Her right leg gave out and she collapsed against the tub, clinging to Solas like a lifeline. 

"Fenedhis." She cursed, tears blurring her vision. "I'm so stupid." 

"You are under an immense amount of pressure, Lethallin." Solas eased her to the ground and began peeling her socks from her legs. She was thankful she was still shivering, as it covered the shiver he elicited when his fingers brushed her bare ankle. With horror she realized he would have to help her undress completely. 

"This still should not have broken me." She whispered, "I have endured worse." 

"Cassandra told me what happened." Solas helped her as she tried to unbutton her shirt with numb hands, fingers slipping on the clasps. "When you didn't come back..."

"I was ready to die." She mumbled miserably, tears slipping from her eyes. "If you hadn't found me I think I would have. I'm so selfish. With no way to close the rifts I would have left you all to be tortured by demons, swallowed up by the breach." 

"I wish I could have helped you sooner." He said, guiding her shirt from her arms. His warm fingers were professional, quick, and efficient. "You need not carry your burdens alone. Your siblings are here to comfort you, care for you, as family does. And I am happy to help with anything you may require, on and off the battlefield. I know I may not seem it, but I can be an excellent listener." 

"Thank you, Solas." He gave her a gentle smile and looped her arms around his neck, guiding her into a standing position. She buried her face in his neck as he untied her leggings, breathing in his herbal scent, trying desperately to ignore the fluttering in her stomach. He eased her leggings and smalls down her hips, then lowered her gently to the ground to take them from her legs. She fought to control her breathing as his fingers brushed the outside of her thigh, sending a tremor up her body. If he noticed anything, he didn't comment or even look her way. When the garments were removed he leaned over her, providing her a modicum of privacy as he untied her breast band. When that was finished he lifted her naked form and lowered her, gently, into the herbal bath. 

Avana let out a sigh as heat and feeling gently worked their way into her frozen muscles. Solas sat behind her, untangling her braid with his slim fingers, as Anala had done what felt like years ago. Her head leaned back against his leg, mumbling in contentment, and felt the dark edges of sleep begin to intrude upon her ravaged mind. 

(She could not have known how his own mind turned to a time ages before, the last time he had done this for another woman, her own pale hair splayed across his lap, singing softly as he weaved glimmering beads into her long tresses, the blue sky casting golden beams on her pale face. He wondered, in that moment, if she could be her reincarnation, if not at least her descendent, for they were so similar, not only in looks but in nature, kind hearts muddied but not diminished by those who would use them. He saw the woman stop singing, open her peridot green eyes to him and smile, love flowing forth like a river. He leans forward and places a kiss to her dusky rose lips, pouring as much love and affection as he can into the gesture.)

"Solas?" Avana's brow pulled together in concern, turning her head to look at him. His fingers had stopped moving in her hair, and he was gazing down at her, something wistful and unreadable in his eyes. "Is something wrong?"

"Nothing, Lethallin." He shook himself of his reverie and finished untangling her hair, turning to gather soap into his palms. "Nothing at all." His fingers massaged across her scalp, and she could not stifle the groan of satisfaction that escaped her lips. He chuckled and guided her back down to rinse her hair, then wrapped it up in a towel and began kneading the cold stiffness from her shoulders. 

"If you keep that up I'm going to fall asleep." Avana mumbled, looking back at him through glassy eyes. 

"You will need to rest anyways." Solas said with a chuckle, draining the tub and pouring fresh water over her skin to rinse her.

"I think I can stand now." She said, trying to hoist herself up by the sides of the tub. Solas moved to her side to assist her, wrapping a towel around her body. She dried herself quickly, legs still unsteady. Even with that the shivering began again in earnest. He helped her out of the tub and half-carried her to the bed, sitting her down while he rummaged through her drawers, pulling out a sleep shirt and a pair of woolen leggings. She dressed with minimal assistance, slipping beneath the covers. Solas turned back to the potion stand and retrieved the kettle from the fire, pouring the boiling water into a mug of herbs.

"Here, drink this." He placed the mug on her bedside table. "It will allow you to sleep without dreaming." 

"What is it?" She pulled the mug to her and smelled it. It had a dusky, mellow scent, dyed lavender from the petals of whatever herb he had used. 

"Something of my own creation." His smug smile was back.

"Insufferably vague tonight, aren't we?" She took a sip. It was sweet and mellow, calming. She felt the clenched muscles in her back loosen slightly. 

"Arbor blessing and Royal Elfroot." He sat on the edge of the bed. "Just a pinch of each. It soothes the nerves."

"Thank you, Solas." She reached out and squeezed his hand. "For everything. It's more than I deserve." 

"Just promise me you will not go running out into the freezing wilderness again anytime soon."

"You know I can't in good conscience promise anything of the kind." She drained the mug and lay back in bed. Solas placed it on the bedside table and lay another blanket over her. 

"At least not without warmer clothes?" His mouth quirked up at the edge.

"I'll do my best. Herald's honor, or whatever." Her voice came out thick and heavy. He smiled at her and their eyes met for a long moment. Something in his face changed, and the butterflies in her stomach returned. He reached out and brushed a stray curl from her forehead, fingers burning along her skin. His eyes darkened then, and he moved to stand. 

"Solas..." she reached for his hand, catching him as he stood. "Stay. Please."

"I do not know if that is wise." His voice was calm, measured, but his eyes betrayed him, a sort of wistful longing deep in the pale blue depths. 

"Please, Solas." She clung to his hand, eyes pleading, until he relented, removing his belt and his boots and sliding under the covers with her. She rolled over and curled into his side, resting her head in his chest, hands tucked to her stomach. Slowly, his arm came to rest around her, and she relaxed, shivering easing as his warmth seeped into her, chasing away the cold that had seeped into her very bones. She fell asleep, the scent of elfroot and citrus following her into the dark.

\-----

"Ava!" Someone was shaking her shoulder. She woke, sitting bolt upright in bed. Anoren was standing over her, green eyes bright with fear.

"What? What is it?" Solas stirred next to her as she groggily tried to focus on Anoren's face.

"Something has happened. You need to come, quickly." She threw the covers off and stood, reaching for her boots and pulling them on. Anoren handed her her staff and the spare cloak she had hung on the rack by her door as Solas sat up. 

"What happened?" Anoren blinked at him, apparently just realizing Avana's bed had a second member.

"It's the Commander. A group of mages attacked, there's only one left and he's trying to talk him down."

Avana stood, leaning heavily on her staff and taking Anoren by the arm. "Come on."

"Are you going to be alright?" Anoren's eyes widened with concern.

"I said let's go." She said, moving toward the door, using her staff as a walking stick. Anoren and Solas followed her out.

The hiss of expending magic and the clang of steel on steel echoed through Haven, people running and shouting. Avana hurried ahead, awareness building, until she burst through Haven's gates.

The Commander was holding off a particularly volatile volley of electrical energy, shield glimmering with the contained magic. The casting mage was the man who had approached Avana in the Chantry, the one she had stepped in front of against the templar. She turned back to Solas and Anoren.

"Get everyone away from the area, and find Cassandra!" She turned back to the altercation. Bodies littered the ground, mage and templar alike, with only one templar moving, blood pooling on the ground beneath her twitching body. She grabbed Solas's retreating arm and gestured to her. He nodded and set off to work at once. 

"STOP!" She thundered, gathering her energy. The mage turned to her and bared his teeth, resuming his onslaught of the Commander, whose sword lay in shattered, glittering pieces on the snow. He was armed with only a small knife and his shield. The force of the magic had him on his knees. The mage fade stepped toward him and knocked his shield away, bringing his staff blade up to drive through Rutherford's throat.

Avana gathered her mana and fade stepped between them, throwing a barrier over her and Cullen. 

The force of her barrier sent shockwaves through the camp. The mage's staff exploded upon impact and threw him back several feet, where he crumpled to the ground and fell still. Avana hit her knees as her legs gave out, barrier flickering out, breathing heavily. Spots floated in her vision, and she shut her eyes against them, gritting her teeth and gathering her energy.

"Lavellan!" She looked back at Rutherford, who was clutching her shoulder, breathing heavily. She realized he was wearing nothing but his breeches, clearly woken from sleep, hair tussled in wild curls. A deep gash ran across his left cheek. He stood and extended a hand to help her up.

"Lysette..." he looked around wildly as he helped Avana to her feet.

"Solas is tending to her." She gestured to where Lysette lay, Solas hovering over her. Cullen nodded and fisted a hand in his hair, eyes wild. 

"They were on us before we even knew." He looked at her suddenly, eyes focusing. She swallowed past the lump in her throat. "Thank you." 

"Commander!" Cassandra sprinted up to them, plate mail thrown hurriedly over her sleep linens. "Are you all right?" 

"I'm fine, thanks to Mistress Lavellan." A group of soldiers hoisted the mage to his feet and dragged him to the Chantry. Cullen ran a hand through his hair. "We should convene the War Council."

"Agreed." Cassandra's eyes turned to Avana, who had straightened herself upright in her best attempt at composure. "Are you well?" 

"A little tired, but nothing more."

"My scouts are sweeping the area." Leliana had materialized next to them, fully dressed. "We will let you know what we find shortly." 

"Good. Shall we?" Avana began moving to the gates of Haven, leaning heavily on her staff. The other two followed, Cassandra fussing over Cullen like a paranoid sister.

Speaking of paranoid sisters...

"Ava!" Anala was waiting outside the Chantry with the other children, Alea's hand clasped tightly in hers. "What happened?" 

"Rebel mage attack." Avana came up to her and clasped her forearm. "Get the children inside. We don't know exactly how many there were." 

"Of course." She gathered them all and ushered them into the chantry. Avana and the council followed. 

"The mages were all from the Kirkwall Circle." Cullen passed a hand over his face, smearing blood down his neck. He grimaced. "They must have decided I needed to be brought to justice."

"I'm sure my outburst didn't help." Avana said. 

"No one could have heard it. We know Sera wasn't still here." 

"The only way to know for sure is to interrogate the mage, once he is conscious." Cassandra said as they entered the war room. "Until then, all we can do is plan our next steps. 

Josephine was already present in the war room, dressed in sleeping linens and a navy dressing robe with gold embellishment. "I am pleased to see you all here and well." She said, dark eyes flickering between the three of them. Avana sat down heavily on the nearest chair, and Josephine's eyes widened. 

"Shall I send for Solas, Mistress Lavellan?"

"That won't be necessary. He is busy tending to Lysette."

"Another healer then-"

"I am fine." She insisted. "Let us get to the matter at hand, and I promise I will rest." 

Josephine nodded, lips pressed together. Leliana entered the war room. 

"It would seem this was an isolated attack. We found one mage on the outskirts. He had defected before, unwilling to commit to the attack. They were a small group from Kirkwall, angry about our Commander's position here. One of their friends, a young man by the name of Maddox, was made tranquil for reasons they did not deem adequate."

A heavy silence fell across the room as they all turned to look at Rutherford. He leaned heavily on his hands against the surface of the table, head bowing. When he looked up he seemed to have aged ten years. 

"Maddox was a young mage who had a lover living outside the circle. A templar smuggled letters in and out for him during his time there. They were caught. Knight-Commander Meredith brought Maddox up on charges of 'corrupting the moral integrity of a templar.'" He spat the words, self-hatred and disgust laced thoroughly between each syllable. "The templar, a man named Samson, was expelled from the order, forced to beg on the street to feed his lyrium addiction."

"Maddox was made tranquil over communication with a loved one?" Avana should have felt enraged, probably would have in another setting, but all she could feel was grief and anguish on behalf of the unknown mage. His entire being stripped over a few letters?

"Mages have received the rite for less." Rutherford passed a hand over his face. "I was not made aware of the charges he faced until the rite was in motion. The Chantry had given the order, and the brand had been sealed to his forehead. Meredith must have known how I would react. Still..." He looked at Avana, humorless smirk lifting the corner of his mouth. "Had I used my simple mind I would have asked Meredith what the charges were before agreeing to supervise."

"Why didn't you?" Leliana asked.

"I had just returned from a mission hunting down a rumored apostate. Meredith often sent me to the field, most likely when she wanted to enact some particularly horrible punishment she knew I'd object to. It went south. Most of my men were killed. I was distracted, and she took advantage of that. None of which," he glanced at Avana again. "Excuses my neglect."

The room was silent for a long time. Avana wanted to be angry. It would be easier to be angry. But whether from exhaustion, or the rare empathy she was feeling at the moment, she read the looking of self-loathing and regret in his face and believed, against her better judgment, that this man truly regretted what he had done, or failed to do. 

"Thank you, Commander." She stood, leaning heavily on her staff. "That cannot be an easy thing to share, and I appreciate your trust in us to do so. I think we all need to get some rest and resume this tomorrow. I also believe that a public forum is in order; I will be seeking out the rebel mages for assistance with the breach, and I do not want any repeat attacks." They all murmered in agreement. The door opened and Solas entered, looking exhausted but satisfied. 

"Pardon my interruption, Commander, but Ser Lysette is awake and is asking to speak with you." 

Rutherford stood quickly and approached Solas, thanking him with a clap on the shoulder and leaving the hall. Avana saw Leliana and Josephine exchange a look out of the corner of her eye. 

"Ladies, if you'll excuse me, I will also take my leave." She inclined her head and took Solas's offered arm, letting him lead her out of the chantry and into the freezing night. The breach rumbled overhead, an ominous reminder of her purpose. She tightened her hold on Solas's arm and shuddered. 

"Are you well?" His voice was polite. Far too polite. 

"I'm fine." They approached her cabin, breach thundering behind them. Snow began to drift down in earnest. "It's been a long night."

"Indeed." They stopped at the door, Avana turning to him as he unwound their arms and catching his fingers in her own.

"Will you come in?" She asked softly. He looked at her, blue eyes open and bright, searching her face. Then he shut down, pulling his hand from hers. 

"I'm afraid I must retire to my own quarters." He was stiff, formal, all familiarity gone. "Goodnight, Mistress Lavellan."

"Goodnight." Avana's heart dropped as he turned and left, graceful strides making no sound on the freshly fallen snow. Confusion, hurt, and embarrassment flooded through her, and she slid through the door, locking the deadbolt behind her. The fire had dimmed, and she threw a couple more logs into the hearth before unlacing her boots and climbing into bed. The sheets still smelled of him, herbal and citrus, and she rolled away from his side of the bed, shutting her eyes and drifting off into uneasy sleep.


	6. Duty and Distraction.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Avana enjoys her week before her next mission spending time with her family, torturing Cullen, and trying to stay away from Solas.

The next week passed without much incident, the month changing from Kingsway to Harvestmere partway through. No more mages had initiated attacks, and some had even taken Avana aside to ensure they were not in support of the attack and had disowned those involved. Avana always awkwardly turned them in the direction of the Commander, who in turn, she had been informed, had acknowledged them with gentle assurances that he did not believe them accomplices, and told them that looked forward to working with them and their bretheren in the future. Avana was a little surprised, but pleased nonetheless. 

She did not seek Solas out, and even took measures to avoid him whenever the opportunity arose. Anoren had approached her the morning after the attack, smirking. 

"So, about this Solas guy..."

"Don't start." They were standing at the edge of the practice field, where Cullen was directing his troops into formation for a shield wall. Anoren had quickly proved himself an immensely capable soldier and had been promoted to Lieutenant, much to the chargrin of the soldiers who had been vying for the position.

"The lay not to your liking?"

"Creators, Nori, no!" Avana gave him a disgusted look, which only widened his grin. "Nothing happened. We've all shared a tent before, I was hypothermic, and he probably just agreed to stay because he didn't want me to freeze to death."

"Sure, sure." Anoren waved a gauntleted hand at her. She still didn't quite know how to feel about seeing him in Inquisition armor, blonde hair tied up on his head in a knot. He never wore his helmet unless required, which had been the topic of many heated discussions between him and the Captains.

"Seriously, Nori, drop it."

"You honestly don't see how he looks at you? When he thinks people aren't looking? It's sickening." 

"Fenedhis lassa." She glared at him. "He does not look at me and you know it. It's not going anywhere." 

"Whatever you say, your heraldness." He bowed and Avana smacked him on the rear end with her staff. He yelped and drew the attention of the Commander, who narrowed his eyes at the pair of them. 

"Lavellan, back in formation!" He barked at Anoren. Anoren scuttled away, yanking his helmet on his head as he went. Rutherford looked to Avana, who rolled her eyes and turned to approach the smithy, determined to replace her ragged armor and hopefully requisition armor for the team she was bringing to the Hinterlands.

She spent the next day with Arell, preparing healing potions and confusion grenades for their trip south. He chattered on and on about Minaeve, the things she had taught him about magical creatures, circle life, and the different ways ram horns could be used for medicinal purposes. 

"I think this is the most I've heard you talk at one time, Ari." She said as she poured the last of the potions into their rounded glass flasks. 

"What can I say? This is the most fun I've had since I was a kid." He was leafing through his notebook, gold eyes bright with interest. 

"Truly?" Avana paused in the act of placing stoppers in the flasks, turning to look at him fully. "You're enjoying yourself here?" 

"Of course. Everyone has been so kind, they haven't even called me knife-ear once. And the elves here, though very few Dalish, have treated me like one of their own." He looked up at Avana, beaming. "I can't believe I'm saying this, but coming here is the best thing that ever happened to me." 

Avana was quiet for a moment, giving him a small smile and returning to her work. Arell had never fit in amongst their clan. He preferred to keep to himself, practicing his magic and pouring over tomes with Avana in his free time. He was quiet and reserved, however, where Avana was not. He'd had a friend once, named Torren, though he had been sent to another clan once his magic had manifested. Deshanna had not wished to separate him from the rest of his siblings, and Torren was an orphan, with no blood family in the clan. 

"I'm glad you're happy here, Ari. Truly." She placed her hand on his, and he looked up at her.

"Do you think Solas would allow me to study under him?"

Avana paused. "I don't know. He has some interesting views on the Dalish. Are you sure you would want to?" 

"Everything we know has been passed down by word of mouth." Arell closed his journal. "I'm open to new ideas." 

"Well, then you should ask him." Avana smiled at him. "The worst he can do is say no." 

"Great. I'll go talk to him after lunch." Arell stood and helped her gather her potions into crates, and together they set out to Avana's cabin. 

Solas found her the next evening by the lake, sharpening her staff blade by the light of a dying candle, a roll of elfroot and blood lotus smoking in a dish next to her. She heard him approach but did not turn. 

"Your younger brother came to me earlier today." He began. Avana stopped sharpening and sighed. 

"And what did he ask of you?"

"He wanted to study under me, become my apprentice."

"What did you tell him?"

"I told him I would, so long as you agreed."

"I am not my brother's keeper." Avana said, more sharply than she intended. "Arell is twenty one. He can make decisions for himself."

Solas was quiet for a long moment. Avana picked up the joint and took a long hit to steady herself. She felt the dock vibrate with his footsteps as he approached and sat down next to her, long legs swinging over the edge toward the crystalline lake. 

"Avana." He said quietly. She refused to look at him, exhaling the smoke through pursed lips. "If I have offended you-"

"No, Solas, you haven't." Avana fidgeted with a strand of her hair. She had left it loose this evening, falling around her in a cloud of silvery curls. "I'm sorry for my sharp words. I'm simply overburdened at the moment."

"As I said the other night, you do not have to carry your burdens alone. Share them with me." Avana refused to look at him, because if she did, she would see that glittering something in his eyes, and she didn't know if she would be able to shove the twisting feeling in her stomach down again. She was afraid she might act on that feeling, say something or do something stupid, and be hurt or embarrassed or both. 

"Leliana asked me to seek out a warden by the name of Blackwall in the Hinterlands. Apparently all of the Grey Wardens have gone missing." 

"I had wondered where they were in all of this." Solas said, his voice grim. Avana passed him the joint. 

"We've also had an entire unit of soldiers go missing in a place south of Redcliffe called the Fallow Mire. We're going to have to go straight there once we conclude our business with the Mages." Avana leaned forward, elbows resting on her thighs. "It's an extra week and a half, assuming all goes well. I'm going to miss Alea's ninth birthday." 

Solas was blowing smoke rings, looking at her from the side of his eye. "You could always celebrate before you leave." 

"Yes, but that isn't the point. I've missed a lot with her. I assisted in her birth itself, but since then I've been busy with my duties as First and now with this Inquisition." Avana took the joint back from him. "Anyways, it's not like it matters. The soldiers have to be found, and everyone else they've sent in has also gone missing or been eaten up by the bog." 

"As they say, when you need something done right, do it yourself." 

"Or send the Herald of Andraste to do it." Avana watched her smoke curl into her lap. "I'm so holy nothing can go wrong."

Solas chuckled. Avana had to fight herself not to look at him. She extinguished the joint against the damp dock and tucked it into her belt pouch. 

"Thank you for lending your ear, Solas. It has helped." She stood and grabbed her staff and candle, now melted away, and extended a hand to help him up. He took it and stood, giving her fingers an affectionate squeeze before dropping her hand. She cast him an unsure look and turned on her heel, heading back up the path to Haven. 

The next day she sat with Varric and Sera after a long day in the war room, drinking mead and chewing on dried fruit and meat. Sera was aligning nuts into rude shapes on the counter while Varric was telling them about his friend Hawke. 

"She's got the most badass armor I've ever seen. A huge iron spike coming out of her left shoulder, so she can impale anyone who gets close enough to charge." He took a deep drink of his ale. 

"What was she like?" Avana asked, playing with the rim of her mug. 

"Ahhh." Varric's eyes glazed over. "Witty as hell, sharp as a tack. She has these eyes like shards of aquamarine that just tear you down from the inside out. She made a great smuggler." Varric eyed her. "The two of you would get along well." 

"Is that so?" Avana took a swig of her mead. "I'd like to meet her someday." 

"Maybe. If I ever see her again." Varric's voice had gone sad. 

"What are her tits like?' Sera had clearly grown bored of the fond rememberences. 

"One is bigger than your damned brain, I'm sure." Varric's tone had grown hostile, and he was cutting black eyes at Sera, who was chewing thoughtfully on an almond, unperturbed by Varric's sudden coldness. 

"Sounds right peachy-"

"Anyways..." Avana said loudly, cutting Sera off. It wouldn't do to have a drunken rogue bloodbath in the middle of the tavern three days out from a journey. "Which one of you wants to come to Redcliffe with me, and which one of you wants to be indentured to Leliana for a couple weeks?" 

"Come on, Dwarfy. I'll play ya for it." Sera produced a pack of game cards, and Varric slammed his tankard down on the bar, grinning ear to ear. The two delved into their game, Avana watching with interest until Flissa sauntered up to her on the other side of the bar, handing her another mug of mead. 

"On the house, lovely." Flissa winked at her and drifted back down the bar. A thought blossomed in Avana's head, and she leaned forward over the bar slightly, pressing her breasts to countertop. She saw Flissa turn slightly in her direction, coy smile flitting over her lips. 

"Flissa, a moment?" Sera whooped in victory behind her, but she ignored it. She had a new distraction at the moment. 

\-----

Breathy moans echoed around the cabin as Flissa's hips rolled against her mouth, desperate mewls smothered by her hand. Avana licked hungrily up her seam, free hand pressing against the woman's hips to still her, other hand curling inside her fluttering cavern, stroking that sweet spot that made the other woman tighten her hand over her mouth to stifle another keen of pleasure. She gave another hard suck over Flissa's sensitive nub, and the woman's back arched off the bed, a moan ringing through the cabin as her walls clenched around Avana's fingers. She gave a final sweep of her tongue as Flissa's hands clawed in her hair, trying to pull Avana away from her overstimulated clit. Avana giggled and sat up, wiping the woman's juices from her chin. 

"Andraste." Flissa said, collapsing onto the bed, running a hand through her wild chocolate tresses. "That was incredible."

"I can assure you, Andraste didn't teach me that." Avana slipped off the bed to fetch the water jug, poured both of them a glass, and brought one over to Flissa. The other woman sat up, gulping greedily from the cup. Avana chuckled and drank from her own cup, arousal pulsing between her legs. 

"Thank you for the water, milady." Flissa set her cup aside and pulled Avana into her lap, pressing a kiss to her breast. "But I can think of something else I'd like to drink at the moment."

"Is that so- Ah!" Flissa took her nipple between her lips and sucked, eliciting a surprised moan from her. She pushed her down so that Avana was on her back, moving to her other nipple and licking around it slowly before pulling her nipple roughly between her lips. She began to kiss slowly down her stomach, biting the space between her hip bone and the thatch of blonde curls between her legs. Avana closed her eyes, letting her head lean back over the edge of the bed, white curls brushing the floor. Her sex pulsed as Flissa flattened on the bed, pressing a kiss to her inner thigh...

A knock on the door had her eyes flying open, Flissa retreating from between her legs. "Fenedhis lassa." She cursed, sitting bolt upright as Flissa slid under the covers, pulling them over her chest. She strode to the door and threw it open in all of her naked glory, body and hair mussed from their play. 

"What?" She snarled, planting her hands on her hips. The other side of the door held Commander Rutherford, face buried in a missive. He looked up at her tone and froze, a deep flush spreading up from his neck to coat his whole face. His eyes flickered from her to Flissa, who was stifling giggles behind her hand. His mouth opened and closed, gaping like a fish out of water. With slight horror she realized Solas was standing at his left, eyebrows raised. 

"Mistress L-lavellan..." Rutherford faltered, casting his eyes up to the sky. "A missive, from Josephine."

"Anything else? If you stand there any longer I'll have to ask you to join us-"

"No!" The Commander backed away, hands up. Avana would have been offended had the whole situation not been so funny. Solas himself looked as though he was stifling a laugh. "I will, ah, leave you to it." And with that he spun on his heels and nearly ran from the cottage. She turned to Solas, folded missive still in hand. "And you?"

"Are you offering me to join you or are you asking why I'm here?" He was smirking.

"A little of column A, a little of column B." Avana cocked her bare hip against the door frame. "Do decide quickly, it's a touch chilly." 

"I'm afraid I will have to decline your offer, although I will admit it is..." his eyes made a quick trail from her eyes to her breasts to her legs, "...tempting. As for why I was here, I joined the Commander wishing to extend and invitation to training with Arell and I. We will be meeting at half past five beginning tomorrow."

"I'll be there. And here." She smirked and shut the door, turning back to where Flissa had erupted into giggles on the bed. 

"Oh Maker, his face!" 

"Priceless, right?" Avana collapsed back on the bed with a huff and opened the missive. "It isn't even anything urgent, just something about lyrium shipments." She groaned and tossed the missive aside. 

"None of that now, miss." Flissa straddled her hips, tracing her fingers down her stomach. "This is play time. No stress during play time."

"Indeed." She sighed and let Flissa take her mind away from her duty, trying to forget the predatory look of hunger on Solas's face, and when that proved impossible, she ignored how quickly it made her come.

\-----

Half past five on the fourth day, she walked down the path to the outskirts of Haven, near the abandoned logging stand she had found in her first month there. Solas was standing with his back to her, reading a book in the fading light. Torches were set up around the area, not yet lit. 

"Did you have a pleasant evening?" He asked as she approached, not looking up from his book. 

"Quite." How did he do that? She took a seat near one of the torches, in his line of sight, legs crossed. "Now tell me, Hah'ren, what will we be learning today?" 

"Best to wait for your brother to arrive before we begin." His voice was polite but firm, clipped. He still hadn't looked at her. She fiddled with a stray thread on her robe, gazing up into the trees as they cast dappled green light down upon them. 

"Hah'ren!" Arell came sprinting into the clearing, staff strapped to his back, a couple of notebooks wrapped in his slender arms. He stopped in front of Solas, breathing heavily. "I'm sorry for being late." 

"It is no trouble, da'len. Today we will be working on basic forms." He positioned Avana and Arell side by side and gave instructions for an ice form. It was a different technique than Avana was used to, but effective nonetheless, and she found she was able to draw more mana than before. They continued through the forms, increasing in difficulty, until Avana became stuck on one: creating a wall of ice. 

She could sense Solas becoming frustrated with her, patience thin as it was, and when her foot slid out of position for the fifth time he bore down on her, nudging it back in place. 

"Here." He placed his foot next to hers to keep it from sliding and used his body to brace her hips from moving too far, hands moving her shoulders into place. They stayed planted there, and Avana remembered those hands on her frozen skin, how careful and kind they could be. "Try again." 

She took a deep breath and cast the ice barrier as instructed, held in place by Solas's body and firm hands. A glacial wall manifested, stronger and more intense than the pathetic, half melted thing that had appeared before. She grinned in excitement and looked back at Solas, whose face was made very close to hers by the position. He blinked for a moment then straightened, clearing his throat and looking away from her. 

"Much better, Avana. I think that will be all for this evening. I will see you both tomorrow." And he returned to his book, shutting the both of them out and away. 

They celebrated Alea's birthday the final evening before Avana was due to leave for the Hinterlands. Alea hugged the stuffed nug toy and squealed, promptly naming it Mr. Snuffles and keeping a tight hold of it the rest of the night. She and Anala slept with Avana that evening, both curled into her bed, while the boys slept on the floor by the fireplace in furred bedrolls. 

The next morning, as Avana loaded her saddlebags onto her mount, Rutherford approached her, hand on the back of his neck. They hadn't spoken since Avana had opened the door to him naked as the day she was born, and she noticed the crimson flush that usually accompanied her presence was somewhat more muted today.

"Please, when you see Fiona, give this to her." He handed her a letter, stamped with the Inquisition seal. "It is my letter of intent to submit to the mages for questioning once the breach is sealed and all this is over. They will decide my fate."

Avana froze, looking up into his face. He looked tired, heavy bags hanging beneath his amber eyes. "Are you sure about this, Cullen?" 

"I am. They deserve closure. I only hope this will be enough to give it to them." He ran his hand through his golden hair, looking out at the mountain range. The sun lit him in a golden glow.

"This... is very noble of you. I cannot find the words." She tucked the letter into her saddlebag and turned back to him. He was looking down at his feet now, shuffling uncomfortably. He cast her a nervous smile and turned to leave. 

"Cullen," Avana reached out and grabbed his forearm, stopping him. He looked down at her, eyes questioning. "Thank you." 

She released him and his face relaxed into a small smile, turning and trudging back to his tent. She watched him go with a small frown, clutching her elbows. Perhaps there was more to this man than she realized. 

As they got on the road, it became quickly apparent that Solas and Sera would not be getting along. The bickering lasted all the way to the camp in the Hinterlands, when Avana finally lost her patience. 

"Fenedhis, enough, both of you!" She shouted, halting everyone in their tracks. Solas turned to argue with her, but she silenced him with a glare before grabbing her bedroll and stomping to the tent. She had a splitting headache, and the mark on her palm had been pulsing the closer they got to Redcliffe, sending sharp streaks of pain up her forearm and withering away her already thin patience. The sun had not yet fallen over the horizon, but there was still an hour yet before dinner was ready, and she planned to get a nap while she could. 

When she reemerged from her tent, more tired than when she entered, her mark was spitting even more brightly than before, shining through her leather glove. Her head was pounding, the prospect of refilling her canteen the only thing driving her out of her bedroll. She ignored her companions, who had been eating in blissful silence around the campfire, and trudged to the requisition officer, who refilled her canteen and handed her a list of needed resources to scavenge for. She took the list and the canteen to a secluded spot at the edge of camp, propping herself against the trunk of a large oak, staring out over the valley to Redcliffe Castle beyond. The trees were in full metamorphosis, like burning bushes over the landscape, and the dusk sky was a fading shade of lavender. She took a deep swig from her canteen, wishing she could appreciate the beauty of the view from her little perch over the pounding in her temples. 

Soft footfalls approached her where she sat, and Solas's bare feet appeared at the corner of her vision. 

"You're hurting again." He said. It wasn't a question. "Even Sera can see it." 

"You would do well to realize Sera has a very sharp mind, just a difficult time expressing it." Avana avoided his statement. 

"You have to tell me when you're hurting." He kneeled in front of her, taking her left hand in his and peeling back her glove. The anchor bathed his face in a sickly green glow.

"Does it matter?" Avana sounded petulant even to her own ears. "We don't even know if we can remove it. I might as well get used to it." 

"I can still help with the pain." Solas's brow furrowed in annoyance. "You will do no one any favors suffering, least of all yourself." He covered her hand with both of his and closed his eyes in concentration. The pain faded away, and Avana's headache went with it. She sighed, slumping back against the tree. A profound sense of exhaustion washed over her. 

"Thank you, Solas." She said as he released her hand and sat back on his heels. The anchor's light had dimmed to a gentle glow. She closed her eyes and leaned her head back against the trunk of the tree. She felt him sit down next to her, shoulder brushing hers. 

"Am I doing the right thing?" She asked him quietly, not opening her eyes. "Recruiting the mages?" 

Solas was quiet for a long moment, shifting next to her. "Magic is the best way to solve this." He said. "You will need to draw on mages to have enough power to control the breach. I don't believe that using the templars in this scenario will prove beneficial." 

Avana turned her to look up at him then, nose nearly brushing his shoulder. He was staring out at the horizon, sharp profile outlined in the fading dusk, long legs stretched out on the ground beneath him. The wolf's jawbone he wore glinted eerily. 

"But what of the Templars?" She said. Solas looked down at her then, eyes deep grey in the low light. "Cullen is right, there are some who will possibly divert to help us."

"Then let them come of their own volition." His tone was gentle. "If they do not agree with their leadership, let them defect to us."

"I suppose I could see what Leliana can do to get messengers into their stronghold. It would be risking alot for whoever went in, one word to the wrong person..." She sighed, turning back to face the horizon and passing a hand over her face. "I'll discuss it with them when I get back." 

"That is all you can do. Whatever you decide, know I support your decision." She turned back to Solas to see him smiling down at her. She returned his smile and moved to stand. 

"I should get some rest. We don't know exactly what we'll find in Redcliffe, and I want to be prepared for anything." 

"Rest well, Avana." He inclined his head to her, and she picked her way back to her tent, crawled into her bedroll, and slipped into the fade.

\-----

She found herself in a large, ornate library, bookshelves filled to the brim taking up every bit of wall space available. A second story could be seen at the far end of the room, long, twisting staircase leading up to it. Next to the staircase was a mahogany desk, cramped with even more books and pieces of paper. Seated behind it was an elf, blond hair piled in a neat bun on top of his head, bent over a piece of parchment, scribbling away. 

"I'm sorry," she said, backing toward the door. He looked up, revealing the mark of June in bold strokes across his pale face and shocking peridot eyes. "I did not mean to intrude."

"Nonsense, lovely girl." He stood quickly, revealing a leanly muscled frame draped in wine colored robes. Avana was taken by his similarity to Arell in that moment. "Come, have a seat. Can I get you anything to drink?"

"No, thank you." He took her by the arm, as if they were the oldest of friends, and guided her to a wine red set of armchairs. They both sat and he reached for a decanter of amber liquid, pouring himself a glass. 

"Now then." He raised the glass to his lips, and Avana saw his hand was a shimmering green, the same as Ashaa's and Adele's. "I believe introductions are in order, yes? I am Aloren Lavellan."

"Aneth ara, lethallan." Avana inclined her head to him. He grinned into his whiskey. 

"I haven't heard the language of the people for some time. I am the only one of my comrades who speaks it. It is refreshing, darling, ma serannas." He placed his glass on the table and steepled his fingers over his chest, studying her. "You did not look quite as I expected."

"Sorry to disappoint." She quirked an eyebrow at him, and he chuckled.

"Not at all. You're going to knock the Orlesian courts dead. They consider us elves 'exotic' you know." He rolled his eyes. "Anyways, I didn't bring you here to discuss fathead shemlen. You're doing great, you know."

"Ah..." Avana shifted her eyes to the fireplace and back to Aloren. "Thank you."

"The mages are the right choice. They need you as much as you need them, and it will be a gratifying alliance, if I do say so myself." Aloren sniffed. "Just need to take Fiona down a notch, but that will be done for you, no worries." 

"Good to know." Avana leaned back in her armchair.

"You need to stop second guessing yourself, my dear, it isn't a good look for you." Aloren set his whiskey down on the side table and clapped his hands together. "Well, shall we get you off to it then? You have some mages to deliver." 

"That easy, huh?" She stood and clasped Aloren's offered forearm. He was very tall, at least as tall as Solas, and his peridot eyes were wide, discerning. She knew he could pick a person apart with one glance. 

"Well, no. But you'll see." He escorted her to the door. A portrait hung next to it, depicting a tanned man with dark hair and a curling mustache, draped in silk and holding an ornate staff. Aloren gazed fondly at it for a moment, then turned to her. 

"I look forward to meeting you again, Lethallin. Dareth shiral." Avana placed her hand on the door handle and was instantly whisked away into the dark, the smell of candle wax, whiskey, and sandalwood lingering in her wake.

\-----

Avana pushed the door of the chantry open slowly, one hand on her staff. Her left hand was crackling, spitting sparks of green against her thigh, and she was a ball of nervous energy. Nothing about Redcliffe felt right; the fade was dangerously thin, but more than that it felt warped, twisted like a wrung dishrag, dripping and flowing irregularly. There was strange magic at work here, and Solas seemed to feel it too, posture pulled tight like a bowstring next to her, eyebrows furrowed and mouth downturned. Even Sera seemed antsy, fidgeting and dancing around them all. 

A brilliant flash of green met her eyes, and she rushed forward as the screech of a shade echoed through the cathedral. A mage was battling two of them, using his staff to bludgeon the twisted creatures into puffs of green sparkles. He turned on them, golden robes swirling about him, a mustachioed mouth twisting upwards into a smirk. 

"Good! You're finally here! Now help me close this, would you?" His voice was polite and lyrical, and he spun back toward the rift as several jets of green shot to the ground, manifesting shades. Avana brandished her staff as the first shade reared toward her, the thrill of battle mingling with her apprehension. Cassandra shot out ahead of her with a roar, wielding her sword, and engaged the nearest shade. She felt the warm caress of Solas's barrier lay over her as the shade swiped out at her throat, and she flattened to the ground, swiping up with her staff blade. It cut through the shade's throat, spraying her with burning blood, and the shade disintegrated with a gurgling screeched. 

Avana lept to her feet and turned as another shade advanced on her, claws reaching for her. She shot a jet of fire at it, catching it's putrid form in a column of inferno. A rancid burning smell filled the room as it writhed in agony, it's form melting away. Something latched onto her collar and she was jerked back as an arrow flew past her head and buried into the eye of another shade that had barreled toward her. Solas shook his head at her in exasperation and pushed her forward, giving her the momentum to drive her staff blade through the gaping maw of yet another shade. As that one fell, she reached out with the anchor and latched onto the rift, snapping it closed with a flick of her wrist. 

"Ah, good, now that's done." The mage dusted himself off, grimacing as he trod through a puddle of shade goo. Avana turned to the man, taking in his form. His skin was a lovely olive tan, with jet black hair and kohl lined grey eyes. His perfectly manicured eyebrows were cocked unevenly, looking at her hand.

"How does that work, exactly?" He looked eerily familiar, and while Avana was struggling with this and answering his question, he let out a bark of laughter. "You don't even know, do you? You just wiggle your fingers and boom! Rift closes." He crossed his arm over his chest and cocked his hip, appraising her while rolling the tip of his mustache between two fingers.

Avana found her voice again. "Who are you?" 

"Ah, getting ahead of myself again, I see." The man inclined his head to her. "Dorian of house Pavus, most recently of Minrathous. How do you do? Magister Alexis was once my mentor, so my assistance should be valuable- as I'm sure you can imagine."

"I was expecting Felix to be here." Avana said, arching an eyebrow. She wasn't currently content to take this man at his words, no matter how flashy they were.

"I'm sure he's on his way. He was to give you the note, then meet us here after ditching his father." 

"Are you a magister as well?" Avana asked. Dorian's face instantly soured.

"All right, let's say this once: I am a mage from Tevinter, but not a magister. I know you southerners use the term interchangeably but that just makes you sound like barbarians." Avana raised her eyebrows and Dorian composed himself, brushing a hand down the front of his robes. 

"Are you the one who sent the note, then?" 

"I am. Someone had to warn you after all." Dorian sighed. "Look, you must know there's danger, that should have been obvious even without the note. Let's start with Alexius stealing the allegiance of the rebel mages out from under you. As if by magic, yes? Which is exactly right. To reach Redcliffe before you..." Dorian paused, as if for dramatic effect. Avana heard Cassandra sigh next to her and fought back a grin. "Alexius distorted time itself." 

"I hope that's less dangerous than it sounds." Avana felt Solas shift next to her, unaware he had been so close to her in the first place, placed protectively over her right shoulder. 

"More." Dorian smirked. "The rift you saw here? You saw how it twisted time around itself, sped some things up and slowed others down? Soon there will be more like it, appearing further and further from Redcliffe." Dorian began to pace, and Solas's hand tightened on his staff. "The magic Alexius is using is wildly unstable, and it's unraveling the world." 

"You're asking me to take a lot on faith, you know." Avana crossed her arms across her chest and broadened her stance. 

"I know what I'm talking about." Dorian stopped pacing and cut his eyes to Solas before returning to hers. "I helped develop the magic. While I apprenticed under Alexius it was all theoretical, but he must have found a way to complete it."

"If that's true, it's remarkable." Solas's voice was polite and held a tinge of respectful awe. His hand was still clamped tight on his staff, however. 

"What I don't understand is why he's doing it. Ripping time to shreds just to gain a few hundred lackeys?" 

"He didn't do it for them." Felix appeared from the shadows, armor glinting in the light of the chantry candles. 

"Took you long enough." Dorian's face visibly relaxed. "Is he getting suspicious?"

"No, but I shouldn't have played the illness card. I thought he'd be fussing over me all day." Felix grimaced and turned to Avana. "My father has joined a cult. Tevinter supremacists. They call themselves 'Venatori.' And I can tell you one thing; whatever he's done for them, he's done it to get to you." 

"Me? What do they want with me?"

"They're obsessed with you. I don't know why. Maybe because you survived the breach? How they're connected, I don't know."

Avana smirked. "All this for me? And here I didn't get Alexius anything." 

"Send him a fruit basket, everyone loves those." Dorian said, a small smile forming beneath his glorious mustache. "You know you're his target? Expecting the trap is the first step in turning it to your advantage." He turned, resuming his pacing. "I can't stay in Redcliffe, Alexius doesn't know I'm here, and it wouldn't do to spoil the surprise. But whenever you want to deal with him, I want to be there." 

Dorian nodded to them and moved to exit through a side door, but stopped and turned his head back to Felix. "Oh, and Felix? Try not to get yourself killed."

"There are worse things than death." Felix said soberly, eyes dark. Dorian disappeared into the shadows, golden cape giving one final glimmer in the candlelight. 

\----

The trek through the Fallow Mire was hereby one of the most unpleasant of Avana's life. The entire area smelt of death, disease, and decay, undercut by the telltale sulfuric stench of rifts and fade. By the time they tracked into the campsite beneath the hollowed caverns, Cassandra had taken a nasty hit to the ribs and was breathing heavily, Sera had fallen into a rotting sinkhole, and even Solas was grimacing. Overall, the general mood was as foul as the stench of the place. 

Cassandra's wound was easily healed, but left a battalion of purple bruises across her torso that had her wincing with each movement, her armor rubbing over them. After watching her struggle to take steps, chesplate bumping her battered ribs with every movement, Avana sent her back to Haven and sent for Blackwall, the grey warden they had recruited in the Hinterlands. This prompted a shouting match, but eventually Cassandra acquiesced, stomping irregularly back up the path to the main camp with a pair of scouts.

Blackwall arrived three days later, looking darker and even more haggard in the grim atmosphere. He proved more than able in combat, though bemoaning the loss of every man slain whenever possible. Avana supposed it was an amiable quality, though it got a little old after a while. Sera, to her great surprise, latched onto him immediately, which gave Avana some reprieve from she and Solas ripping out each other's throats. Until she realized Blackwall had a humorous streak of his own. 

"Elfroot. Do elves just call it root?" He asked as Avana cut a stem from it's root. 

"No, we have another name for it." Avana could almost hear Solas rolling his eyes.

"Well that's no fun."

"You've been spending too much time with Sera." They all turned to look at Sera, who was carving a phallic symbol into the wall of the cavern they were in, giggling to herself. 

They finally cut through the last of the undead and defeated the Avaar leader, finding the patrol alive, though wounded. They healed what they could and escorted them back to the main camp. Avana noted, with moderate astonishment, that the undead seemed to have crawled back into their filthy holes. Nothing bothered them during their trip.

Finally, the Herald of Andraste and her merry band of misfits were on the road back to Haven. It was a nearly silent trip, Sera and Solas beginning their bickering temporarily until Avana shut them up with a look. She was cold, wet, and smelled like death. She was not in the mood to endure a petty squabble. 

The made Haven in record time, spurned on by the thought of baths and hot meals and beds. Avana felt her damp cloak and armor begin to frost over, shivering at the memory of her flight into the forest. Unhelpfully, the Commander had been present to greet them. 

"Mistress Lavellan." He nodded at her and held out a hand to help her from her horse. She took it, too weary to decline or fix him with a burning glare, settling for hoping her rank glued itself to the inside of her nose. His hand was warm through their leather gloves. "May I walk you back to your cabin? I have something quick to discuss with you."

"Of course, Commander." Avana didn't try to disguise the exhaustion in her voice. She took his offered arm, a little taken aback at his politeness. She felt a pair of eyes burning into the back of her head and glanced back to see Solas staring at her, unreadable expression on his face. She shrugged and turned back. 

"I'll make this brief." Rutherford said, noting her sagging posture. "You have a habit of throwing yourself into close-quarters combat. It is the opinion of myself and the rest of the war council that you should undergo hand-to-hand combat training. I know you like to use your staff as a bludgeon, and-" he held up his free hand defensively as she turned to comment. "You don't need your staff should it be compromised. Extra training cannot hurt, Avana." They entered the corridor to her cabin, her neighbors already sound asleep. He untangled their arms as they climbed the steps to her quarters, turning to face her. She had to crane her head up to look into his face. 

"Fine." She rubbed a hand over her face, unable to meet his honeyed gaze for too long. "When do we begin?" 

"Day after tomorrow, at sunrise." He bowed to her. "Get some rest, Mistress Lavellan." He turned and left, hand on the pommel of his sword. Avana averted her eyes from the set of his impossibly broad shoulders and threw herself into her cabin.

Creators take her, she did not need any one on one time with that man. They'd kill each other.

**Author's Note:**

> Hey y'all!
> 
> So I know, we've seen it all before, we've all played the game, but it was important to Avana's story to outline. I tried to put as much of an original spin on it as possible, to keep things interesting, and I hope you like it!


End file.
